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6 

THE  GREAT  FUR   LAND 


OR 


SKETCHES    OE    LIFE 


IN     THE 


HUDSON'S  BAY  TERRITORY 


BY 


H.    M.    ROBINSON 


WITH    NUMEROUS    ILLUSTRATIONS    FROM    DESIGNS   BY 

CHARLES    GASCHE 


NEW  YORK 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S   SONS 

182   Fifth   Avenue 

1879 


Fc 
3205.1 


Copyright,  1879,  by  G.  P.  Putnam's  Sons, 


'^H^l 


PREFACE. 


T  N  the  preparation  of  this  volume  the  aim  of  the  author 
has  been  to  present  some  of  the  more  picturesque  phases 
of  life  in  the  Hudson's  Bay  Territory,  without  wearying  the 
reader  with  the  personal  busines|  of  the  traveler.  To  this 
end  he  has  shaped  his  material  in  the  form  of  sketches,  con- 
nected only  by  their  order,  which  represents  the  seasons  of 
the  year  in  which  the  features  treated  periodically  recur. 

Wherever  the  personal  knowledge  of  the  author  has  been  at 
fault,  the  following  works   of  orher  travelers   have   formed 
the  basis  of  his  descriptions :  Hargrave's  Red  River,  Butler's 
Great  Lone  Land  and  Wild  North  Land,  Balkntyne's  Hud- 
son  Bay,  Southesk's  Saskatchewan  and  the  Rocky  Mountains. 
and   Milton    and    Cheadle's    Northwest   Passage    by    Land 
Much  of  the  material  used  in   the  composition  of  the  vol- 
ume has  appeared  heretofore  in  the  shape  of  contributions 
to  Appletoti's  Journal,   Harper's  and   Lippincotfs  Magazines, 
and  the  New   York  Evening  Post. 

rx^  ^  H.  M.  R. 


i^  ,1 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER   I. 

A  Journey  By  Dog-Sleoge.  —  A  Reminiscence— The  Passenger 
Cariole— Sledge-Dogs— The  Freight-Sledge— A  Heathen  Cree— 
The  Departure— Hybrid  Mercuries— A  New  Sensation  — Bibu- 
lous Surnames— A  Hudson's  Bay  Fort— The  Night  Bivouac— The 
Hauling-dog's  Day— Hie  Jacet— A  Dream— The  Midnight  Choir 
—The  Morning  Start— Lako- Travel  by  Dog  Sledge— The  Storm 
—Anathema  Maranatha— Persuasion  by  the  Whip— The  Esqui- 
maux  Dog— An  Invocation  to  the  Manitou— Marche !— The  End 
of  the  Journey 


PACK 


CHAPTER  II. 
Canoe-Life.— The  Advent  of  Spring— The  Birch-bark  Canoe— Its 
Uses— How  it  is  Made— The  Old  Life  of  the  Wilderness— Canotes 
De  Maitre— A  North  Canoe— The  Voyageurs'  Boat-sung— Arrival 
of  a  Canoe-brigade— Canoe-travel— A  Summer  Landscape— Ap- 
proaching a  Rapid  — The  Ascent— Patching  a  Leak— Poling— 
Shooting  a  Rapid — Sic  Transit 27 

CHAPTER   III. 
The  Half-Breed  Voyageur.— A  Typical  Half-Breed— His  Mixed 
Language— His   Origin— Primitive   Courtship    in    the    Woods- 
Number  and  Location  of  the  Half-Breeds — The  French  Metis 

His  Home  and  Surroundings — The  Bed  of  Ware — Occupations  of 
our  Half-Brother — His  Improvidence— His  Social  Life — A  Half- 
Breed  "  Noce  "—Spring  Work  and  Summer  Labor— Prolonged 
Feasting  with  Famine  to  Follow— The  Tastes  of  the  Half-Breed 
— His  Mixed  Theology ^o 


0k 


VI 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER   IV. 


'AGE 


The  Hudson's  Bay  Company.— Its  Relations  to  the  Country— Or- 
p.nnizatior  of  tlie  Company — The  Fur  Trade — The  Company's 
Servants — Life  in  the  Service — The  Rewardr  of  Long  Service — 
Routine  of  Advancement — The  Wintering  Partnc — Wives  to 
Order — Tlic  Aristocracy  of  the  Wilderness — Change  f)f  Programme 
— The  IJxtent  of  the  Fur  Country — Its  Divisions — Hudson's  Bay 
Forts — Their  Garrisons — Fort  Garry — Churchill  Factory — Trad- 
V  ing-Pofts — The  Trade-Room — A  Trading  Precaution — System  of 
\  Trading — Collection  of  Furs — The  Life  of  the  Servant 56 

CHAPTER  V. 

Life  in  k  Hudson's  Bay  Comi-anv's  Fort. — Business  Routine — 
How  it  is  Acquired — The  Real  Life  of  the  Fort — The  Officers' 
Mess— Subjects  of  Conversation — A  Transient  Guest — Meal-time 
Sociality — The  Stranger  within  the  Gates — The  Mess-table — A 
Bill-of-Fare — F^otL  Supplies — StariaLiQCir-The  Comforts  of  Up- 
hols;ery  —  Peculiarities  of  Individual  Taste  —  Daily  Routine  of 
Business — Indian  Customers — 'Tj;ade  at  PostsnrThe  Monotonous 
Hoars — An  Officer's  Log- Book — Games,  Literature,  and  Letter- 
Writing — The  Musical  Instruments — A  Dance — Life  after  Service    88 


CHAPTER   VI. 

A  Vo'iAGE  WITH  THE  VoYAGEURS. — The  Boat-brigade — Indian  and 
Half-caste  Women — The  Aboriginal  Voyageur — The  Half-Breed 
Voyagt'ur — Some  Char.cterislics  of  the  Half-caste — His  Personal 
appearance  and  Habits — Buying  a  Wife — The  System  of  Advances, 
and  how  it  Works — Meeting  en  route — Queer  Scenes  attending 
the  Departure  of  the  Brigade — Scenery  on  the  Lower  Course  of 
the  Red  River  of  the  North — The  Transport  Service  of  the  Com- 
pany— The  Freighting  Season  and  its  Routine — Inland  Boats — 
Their  Crews — En  Route — The  Delta  of  the  Red  River — A  Mid- 
day Halt — Berry-Pemmican — Appearance  of  Pemmican — Its  Sus- 
taining Qualities  and  Flavor — Methods  of  Cooking  it- — Tea  Drijftk; 
int^  —Making  a  Portage — StandarcL^Yciglit  of  Packages  in  the  Far — 
Xradg — How  the  Voyageur  PortagesUie  Cargo — Perils  of  Lake 
-  N.-^vigation — Fii"L.]^'£J2lg:^^  Shore  Camp^—  BejWlTfg'^^^S"  Camp 
Scene — Mosquitoes  and  their  Ways — A  Tanley — Incidents  of  the 
Voyage — The  Winnipeg  River — Breasting  up  a  Fall — What  Next? 


CONTilNTS, 


Vll 


PACK 


—The  Portage  Landing— Forcing  a  Rapid— Tracking  and  its 
Dimcuhics— Onward  Progress- Wasii-day— An  Al  fresco  Toilet— 
White  »og j^^^ 


CHAPTER  VII. 

The  Gkkat  Fau.  Hunts. -KcI  River  Settlement -The  Plain- 
Hunters'  Ancestry— The  Seini-Annual  Hunts— i>reparation—Ti.e 
Start  for  the  Plains— The  Rendezvous— Occupations  of  the  Camp 
—Horse-Racing  and  C.amblin-— The  Camp  by  Night— The  Morn- 
ing  Headache— The  Half-Rrecd  Plain  hunter  — A  Donnyhrook 
Fair— A  Prairie  lilection— The  Officers  of  the  Hunt— The  Code 
Napoleon— Departure  for  the  Plains— The  Line  of  March  — A 
Rurncd  l'ra"ie— The  Night  Camp— Sunday  Oi)servances— Open- 
air  Devotions— 'I'hc  Challenge  and  Race— Snaring  a  Buffalo— The 
Feast  and  the  Famine— Approaching  the  Ilerils— The  BufTalo 
Runner— The  Charge— How  the  Hunter  Loads— Cutting  Up— 
Pemmican— How  it  is  Made— How  it  is  Used— Dried  Meat— In- 
creasing Scarcity  of  Buffalo— Prolonged  Feasting— The  Return- 
Encroaching  Civilization 


136 


CHAPTER  VIII. 
The  Fraternity  of  Medicine-Men.  — Life  at  Trading- Post— A 
Medicine-Feast — Spiritual  Communion— Indian  Medicines— Pe- 
riodical Poisons  and  their  Queer  Effects— The  Curious  Contents  of 
a  Medicine-hag— Totems— The  Medicine-Men— The  Cures  they 
Perform— Medical  Students— A  Queer  Ceremony— Initiation  by 
Torture— Indian  Spiritualism— A  Total  Wreck— An  Aboriginal 
Medical  College— The  Conjuror's  Legerdemain  —  Old  Prob— 
Mysterious  Power 168 

CHAPTER    IX. 
The    Blackkeet  — A   Plain-Indian   "Trade."'  — The    Blackfeet 
Country— Perpetual  Warfare— Origin  of  the  Blackfeet— Their  Con- 
federacy— The  Sircies— Language  and  Location  of  the  Tribes 

Dress  and  Appearance  of  the  Blackfeet— Their  Mental  Character- 
istics—Civil Organization  of  the  Confederacy — Fondness  for  Liquor 

— Funeral  and  Burial  Ceremonies — Trade  with  the  Blackfeet 

Rocky  Mountain  House— The  Aboriginal  Commercial  Traveler 

His  Purple  and  Fine  Linen — "  Drumming  " — Preparations  at  the 


Vlll  CONTENTS. 

Fort — The  Trade- Room — IIow  the  Customer  is  Received — Ap- 
y)roach  of  the  Band — A  Tiavaiile — A  Tepee — Hlackfeet  Ponies — A 
Palaver — An  Indian  Present — How  the  Indian  Trades — The  Ins 
and  the  Outs — The  Rush  to  get  In — Characteristic  01)jections — A 
Horse  Trade — The  Current  Coin  of  the  Fur  Land — A  New  Suit 
and  its  Fate — Liquor  Trading — A  New  Legal  Tender — Some 
Queer  Scenes 


PAGR 


185 


CHAPTER   X. 

Winter  Travel. — Autumn  in  the  Fur  Land — Wheels  vs.  Runners — 
The  Red  River  Cart — The  Carriage  of  Madame — Raw-hide  Har- 
ness— Shaganappi — The  Cart-Pony — A  Native  Horseman — An 
Indian  Pony — The  Careening  Caiiole  and  its  Uses — Locomotion 
on  Snowshoes — Sledge-dogs  —  The  Hudson's  Bay  Dog-sledge — • 
The  Freight-Sledge — Dog  Harness — The  Dog  as  a  Draught  Ani- 
mal— Intense  Cold — How  the  Winter  Traveler  Dresses — How  the 
Half-Breed  Dresses — Tents  in  Winter — The  Yellow  Dog — The 
Morning  Start — The  Traveler's  Irritation — A  Fight  in  Harness — 
A  Winter  Landscape — The  Travelei's  Sensations — Incidents  of 
the  Journey — The  Night  Camp — An  Open-air  Bedroom — The 
Daily  Routine  of  Travel 213 

CHAPTER   XL 

The  Fur  Hunter. — Wood  Indians — The  System  of  Advances — The 
Trapper's  Dress — His  Outfit — Tiie  Start  into  the  Forest — The 
Trapper's  Life— Reading  Signs — How  to  make  a  Marten-trap — 
Lenten  Feasts — Steel  Traps  for  Wolves  and  Foxes — The  Poisoned 
Bait — A  Beaver  Colony — The  Trapper  comes — The  Beaver  Lodge 
— Trapping  Beaver  in  Summer — The  Wolverine — The  Way  he  gets 
a  Living — His  Destructiveness  and  Persecution  of  the  Trapper — 
Pleasures  and  Pains  of  the  Trapper's  Life — The  Vast  P'orests  in 
Winter — Short  Commons — Sleeping  Out 240 

CHAPTER  XIL 

A  Winter  Camp. — A  Social  Photograph— The  Winter  Hunters— 
Half-Breed  Houses — The  Wife's  Relations — Work  of  the  Women 
— Treatment  of  Infants — Half-Breed  Hospitality — Forest  Gour- 
mands— Prolonged  Feasting  with  Famine  to  Follow — A  Bill  of 
Fare — The    Hudson's  Bay   Ration — Some  Phases  of  Matiimony 


CONTENTS. 


IX 


— The  Inconvenience  of  having  but  one  Room — Wooing  in  Com- 
pany— Gabriel  Dines — Sechision  by  Courtesy — I  low  the  Half- 
Breed  Lover  Courts  his  Sweetheart — Ilalf-Hreed  Pet  Names — 
Love's  Wliippers-in — The  Worth  of  Sisters  and  a  Katlier  to  a 
Maiden  whose  Lover  is  Shy — Tiie  Wedding  Gifts — Later  Progress 
of  the  Wooing — The  Groom's  Leggins — The  VVeddinj — The  In- 
dian Ilanger-on — Communism  in  tiie  Woods — How  the  Indian 
Begs — The  Indian  in  his  Cups — Home  of  the  Hanger-on — The 
Indian  Languages — Home  Costume  of  the  Red  Man — The  Mis- 
sionary I'riests  and  their  Curious  Flocks — The  Merchant  of  the 
Plains — His  Store  and  Customers — The  Free-trader's  Station  in 
Camp — Liquor  Trade — March  to  the  Settlements — Disposition  of 
the  Furs — Sojourn  of  the  Trader  in  Civilization — The  Winter 
Hunt — Departure  for  the  DutTaio  Grounds — Strategy  of  the  Hunt 
— Striking — Cutting  up  the  lUiffaloes — A  P'orest  Meat-house — Knd 
of  the  Expedition — The  White  Stranger — The  Poetry  of  Wild 
Life 


PACB 


254 


CHAPTER  XIII. 
The  Frost  King. — The  Prairie  \.ean — Its  Antiquity — Some  Curious 
Features — Sun  Guidance — Lost  upon  the  Praiiie — The  Plains  in 
Winter — The  Mirage — The  Guideboards  of  the  Plain-dweller — 
A  Winter  Scene — Frozen  Noses — Some  Phenomena  of  Arctic 
Weather — A  Poudre  Day — Incidents  of  Winter  Fravel  —  The 
Melancholy  Still  Days — Night  on  the  Prairies — Clothing  for  Cold 
Weather — A  Winter  Landscape — The  Terrors  of  a  Blizzard  —A 
Freezing  Experience 289 

CHAPTER  XIV. 
A  Half-Breed  Ball. — The  Inviiation — Mental  Pictures — Consular 
Archives — The  Habiliments  of  Rejoicing — An  Upset — Peculiari- 
ties of  my  Attendant — Discharged  from  the  Sledge — My  Host  and 
his  Guests — A  General  Introduction — Pauline — French  Osculation 
— The  Groom  Expectant — My  Hostess  and  her  Cuisine — A  Time  to 
Dance — A  Half-Breed  Terpsichore — I  Dance — Then  Swear  Off 
— The  Ball  Supper — A  Satisfied  Appetite — Disposal  of  Wearied 
Guests — Morning  and  Departure 315 

CHAPTER   XV, 

A  Wood-Indian  "  Trade."  —  How  the    Hudson's    Bay  Company 
gathers   Furs — The   Extent  and   Methods   of   Business — Winter 


'^amiiiuimiimmiMm 


i'CwBti 


CONTENTS. 


PACB 


ill  the  Forts — Indian  Trappers'  Spring  Visit — The  Company's 
Prices  and  Profits — High  Prices  paid  for  Muskets  and  Blankets — 
The  Cost  of  Goods — The  Liquor  Traffic — A  Fair  Standard  of  Value 
— An  Indian's  Queer  Ways  of  Shopping — The  White  Medicine- 
Man — The  Luxuries  of  Life — The  Trappers'  Relations  to  the  Com- 
pany— The  Preservation  of  Game — The  System  of  Advances — Tea 
and  Tobacco — Spring  Work — The  Wealth  of  Furs — The  Pine  Mar- 
ten— The  Fisher — The  Mink — The  Raccoon — Costly  Fox-fur — 
The  Decline  in  demand  for  Beaver-skins — Muskrats — The  Lynx 
and  Sea  Otter — Bear  and  Rabbit  Skins — The  Rob2  of  Commerce 
— The  Buffalo's  Coat — Likeness  to  Lions — Women's  Work — 
Painting  the  Robes — The  Indian's  Friend — Finis 326 


ILLUSTRATIONS. 


One  of  the  Team ^^°^ 

The  Line  of  March 

The  Night  Camp,  . .  |   ' ^ 

A  Half-Breed's  Cabin ' 

A  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  Post [][ 

A  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  Outpost 

A  Portage  Landing 

A  Northern  River ^^ 

Making  a  Portage ^°^ 

A  Portage  Camp 

Tracking ' ^^"^ 

A  Blackfeet  Grave ^^* 

The  Trading  Store ' ' '_ ^^^ 

Cart-Wheel  Scow, 

A  Cariole 

* ••••• ^ •,,,    221 

Hudson's  Bay  Dogs,.. 

• ••..••    ,, ••»#         22*^ 

A  Freight-Sledge 

' 226 

A  Fight  in  Harness 

Steel  Traps ^^^ 

245 

A  Winter  Camp 

Half-Breed  Leggins ^^^ 

Indian  Costume 

A  Fire-Bag ^'^^ 

339 


ni 


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ill 


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i! 


THE  GREAT  FUR   LAND. 


CHAPTER  I. 


A   JOURNEY   BY   DOG-SLEDGE. 

A     MEMORY  which  refuses  to  associate  with   ordinary 
-^^  remembrances,   and    has  an   odd    preference  for  the 
company  of  sportive  and  incongruous  dreams,  is  that  of  a  cer- 
tain charming  gentleman,  of  extremely  punctilious  bearing, 
careering  wildly  over   a  frozen    Northern   prairie  in  a  dog- 
sledge.     He  was  the  proprietor  and  determined  wearer  of  the 
only  silk  hat  within  a  radius  of  four  hundred  miles,  and  still 
adhered  to  the  use  of  a  shawl  as  an  outer  covering  long  years 
after  it  had  ceased  to  be  employed  as  an   article  of  wear. 
Added  to  this  was  an  irreproachable  suit  of  black  broadcloth 
the  like  of  which  was  not  to  be  encountered  within  the  same 
radius,  and  a  pair  of  tight  boots,  that  would  have  frozen  the 
feet  of  a  half-breed  runner.     In  this  civilized  apparel  he  was 
essaying  his  first  ride  in  a  dog-sledge,  and  a  more  incongruous 
spectacle  it  has  never  been  my  lot  to  behold. 

Seated  in  a  cariole  resembling  in  shape  a  heelless  shoe, 
the  unfortunate  gentleman  was  whirling  over  the  drifted  plain 
in  rapid  but  tortuous  course.  Having,  in  the  confidence  of 
perfect  ignorance,  refused  the  proffered  services  of  a  driver 


m.  ^ 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


lest  he  should  excite  ridicule  by  beu:^  i^uarded  and  guided 
like  an  infant  in  a  baby-cab,  he  was  now  reaping  the  fruits  of 
his  rashness  in  a  series  of  the  most  remarkable  gyrations  of 
which  the  human  body  is  capable.  The  dogs  being  unac- 
quainted with  the  language  of  their  freight,  and  evidently 
animated  by  the  spirit  of  evil,  wandered  at  their  own  sweet 
will  over  the  snow-covered  plain  ;  their  will  generally  prompt- 
ing them  to  plunge  headlong  into  every  drift,  or  to  skirt  the 
steep  sides  of  the  long  ridges.  Under  these  depressing  cir- 
cumstances, it  behooved  the  neophyte  to  use  his  utmost  en- 
deavor to  retain  an  upright  position,  in  order  to  avoid  a 
sledge-ride  in  which  his  own  body  would  be  used  as  the  run- 
ners, and  the  cariole  assume  the  place  of  passenger. 

Being  limited  by  the  construction  of  the  sledge  to  the  use 
of  his  hands  alone,  hitherto  employed  in  holding  hi  shawl,  he 
was  forced  to  drop  that  favorite  covering  in  order  that,  by 
swaying  rapidly  from  side  to  side  and  plunging  his  hands  in 
the  snow,  he  might  right  the  sledge.  This  continuous  seesaw, 
and  the  crowning  incongruity  of  the  silk  hat,  gave  him  at 
length  the  appearance  of  a  jumping- jack,  or  "  the  gentleman 
in  black,"  as  he  starts  suddenly  from  the  box  and  swings 
pendulous  from  side  to  side.  His  frantic  shouts  of  "  Whoa  !  " 
availed  nothing ;  the  dogs,  having  been  sent  out  to  give  their 
passenger  a  ride,  were  evidently  bent  upon  doing  it,  and 
wandered  vaguely  about  on  the  drifting  snow.  At  length,  a 
more  than  usually  vertical  drift  being  reached,  the  tired  arms 
gave  out,  and  the  cariole,  left  without  support,  poised  a 
moment  in  mid-air,  then  turned  over,  leaving  the  recumbent 
voyager  with  his  legs  still  fastened  to  the  sledge,  but  with 
arms  thrust  deep  into  the  snow  and  head  calmly  pillowed  in 


A   JOURNEY  BY  DOG-SLEDGE. 


the  depths  of  his  hat.  From  this  position  he  was  powerless 
to  move,  except  at  the  will  of  the  dogs,  who  had  now  faced 
about  in  their  harness,  and  seated  themselves  to  gaze  imper- 
turbably  upon  the  wreck.  The  spectacle  of  this  representa- 
tive of  a  higher  civilization  lying  stranded  upon  a  thin  board 
in  a  limitless  ocean  of  snow,  proved  too  much  for  half-breed 
courtesy  ;  and  there  he  lay  until  the  owner  of  the  cariole  had 
sufficiently  recovered  from  successive  convulsions  of  laughter 
to  run  to  his  assistance. 

A  determination  to  avoid  a  like  experience  led  the  writer, 
some  time  afterward,  before  undertaking  a  winter's  journey 
across  the  frozen  expanse  of  Lake  Winnipeg,  to  pursue  a  little 
judicious  training,  surreptitiously  undergone  upon  an  unfre- 
quented by-road,  before  even  attempting  to  decide  upon  the 
merits  of  the  various  teams  presented  for  that  service. 

To  begin  my  journey,  I  purchased  a  board  about  nine  feet 
long  and  sixteen  inches  wide,  which  was  duly  steamed  and 
turned  up  at  one  end.  To  it  wooden  bows  were  fastened, 
while  over  it  was  stretched  a  stout  covering  of  raw-hide. 
This  accomplished,  the  board  resembled  the  front  of  a  slipper. 
To  complete  the  likeness,  a  heel-top  was  made  by  attach- 
ing an  upright  back  about  two  feet  from  the  rear  end,  and  ex- 
tending the  raw-hide  covering  to  it.  Then  the  shoe  was  sub- 
mitted to  an  Indian  friend,  who  decorated  its  outer  surface 
with  mystical  emblems  in  red  and  yellow  pigments,  covering 
the  whole  with  a  coating  of  oil.  When  the  motive  power  was 
furnished,  the  slap  would  be  ready  to  sail. 

The  selection  of  the  propelling  force  was  more  difficult  of 
accomplishment.  Dogs  of  high  and  low  degree  were  brought 
for  inspection  ;  for  dogs  in  the  North  have  but  one  occupa- 


i¥ 


4  r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 

tion — to  haul.  From  the  Esquimaux  down  through  all  the 
stages  of  canine  life  to  the  Indian  mongrel,  all  are  alike  doomed 
to  labor  before  a  sledge  of  some  kind  during  the  winter  months  ; 
all  are  destined  to  howl  under  the  beatings  of  a  brutal  driver  ; 
to  tug  wildly  at  the  moose-skin  collar  ;  to  haul  until  they  can 
haul  no  longer,  and  then  to  die.  When  I  look  back  at  the 
long  line  of  seared  and  whip-marked  heads,  whose  owners 
were  put  through  their  best  paces  in  demonstration  of  their 
perfect  fitness  for  the  work,  what  a  host  of  sadly-resigned 
faces  rises  up  before  me  !  There  were  heads  lacking  an  ear, 
an  eye  ;  heads  bearing  the  marks  of  blows  with  sticks,  whips, 
the  heels  of  boots  ;  heads  that  had  been  held  down  and  beaten 
out  of  all  semblance  of  life  ;  and  heads  yet  all  bleeding  and 
torn  with  the  brutal  lashings  thought  necessary  to  impart  an 
air  of  liveliness  before  a  probable  purchaser  !  The  same 
retrospect  brings  up  the  hybrid  drivers  of  those  dogs,  upon 
the  majority  of  whose  countenances  a  painful  indifference  to 
suffering  and  an  inherent  brutality  were  plainly  visible — 
dusky,  athletic  fellows,  whose  only  method  of  dealing  with  the 
poor  dog,  who  gave  up  everything  in  life  for  them,  was  by 
blows  and  fierce  invective. 

For  a  time  all  teams  submitted  for  inspection  seemed 
wanting  in  some  essential  quality.  At  length,  however,  my 
prospective  driver  informed  me  of  a  half-breed  acquaintance 
who  was  the  possessor  of  a  team  which  he  thought  would 
answer  the  purpose.  His  mongrel  friend  resided  sixty  miles 
away  ;  but  distance  and  time  go  for  naught  in  the  North — in 
fact,  are  about  the  only  possessions  with  which  the  inhabitants 
are  plentifully  endowed  ;  so  we  compassed  the  space  and  pur- 
chased  the  dogs.     There  were  four  of  them — long-haired, 


i     !,!  : 


A  yOURNE Y  BY  DOG-SLEDGE. 


5 


clean-legged,  fox-headed  animals,  with  more  the  appearance 
of  wolves  than  of  dogs.     With  them  came  four  sets  of  har- 


^,.tt 


ONE  OF  THE  TEAM. 


ness,  qach  set  having  a  tinkling  row  of  bells  in  its  back-band 
which,  being  of  different  tones,  rang  a  merry  chime  as  their 
wearers  trotted  briskly  along.  This  completed  the  passenger 
accommodation  ;  now  for  the  baggage-van. 

Another  board,  ten  feet  in  length  and  fourteen  inches 
wide,  was  purchased,  steamed,  and  turned  up  at  one  end. 
But,  instead  of  the  raw-hide  covir.hg,  shoe-latchets  were  in- 
serted in  the  outer  edges  of  the  board,  which  would  tie  down 
tightly  to  its  surface  the  load  of  provision,  bedding,  and 
camp-equipage,  necessary  for  the  journey.  For  this  sledge 
the  motive  power  was  selected  less  critically  ;  strength  was  the 
requisite,  not  symmetry ;  so  dogs  of  strong  sinew  and  large 
bone  were  chosen,  regardless  of  looks.  For  provision,  we  had 
pemmican — the  pounded  dried  meat  of  the  buffalo  mingled 
with  fat — and  black  tea ;  the  dogs  had  frozen  whitefish. 


n 


O  THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 

My  driver  was  a  heathen  Cree.  He  was,  moreover,  a  lin- 
guist, speaking  several  aboriginal  dialects  and  a  kind  of 
mongrel  French.  Five  golden  sovereigns  constituted  the 
bond  of  union  between  us.  He  was  a  lank,  muscular  man, 
the  bones  of  whose  huge  frame  stood  out  conspicuously  at  the 
joints  and  angles,  and  the  muscles  showed  distinctly  in  his 
gaunt  meagreness.  He  had  yellow  paint  on  his  face,  and  was 
arrayed  in  rather  bewildering  apparel.  His  headgear  was  the 
luxuriant  chevelure  with  which  Nature  had  endowed  him. 
On  his  feet  he  wore  moccasins ;  on  his  limbs  he  wore  leggins, 
which  extended  only  a  certain  way  above  the  knee,  leaving 
that  Providence  which  "  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb  " 
a  dreary  waste  of  yellow-mottled  skin  upon  which  to  experi- 
ment ;  on  his  body  he  wore  a  cotton  shirt  perennially  innocent 
of  soap.  Attached  to  this  shirt,  and  stretched  straight  and 
taut  across  the  pit  of  his  stomacn,  he  wore  a  brass  watch- 
chain.  Over  all,  like  the  mantle  of  Charity,  was  strapped  a 
green  blanket.  Thus  attired,  he  resembled  a  settled  melan- 
choly, or  a  god  of  bile  from  a  dyspeptic's  inferno.  Neverthe- 
less, he  could  travel  from  forty  to  sixty  miles  a  day,  running 
alongside  the  sledge. 


■i!  '    Hi 


It  was  the  loth  of  December  when  we  left  Fort  Garry, 
bound  down  the  Red  River  of  the  North,  across  the  frozen 
length  of  Lake  Winnipeg,  to  Norway  House,  at  its  northern 
extremity.  There  started  with  us  the  four  dog-trains  and  two 
drivers  which  constitute  the  Great  Northern  Packet  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company,  and  which,  with  its  connecting  links, 
scatters  news  over  all  that  vast  region  lying  between  the  forty- 
ninth    and    sixty-seventh    parallels    of    latitude,    in    North 


A  JOURNEY  BY  DOG-SLEDGE, 


America,  and  reaching  east  and  west  from  Labrador  to  Alaska. 
Our  route  being  the  same,  we  joined  company  with  the  hybrid 
Mercuries,  and  began  our  journey  amid  much  cracking  of 
whips,  howling  of  dogs,  and  profanity  discreetly  veiled  by  de- 
livery in  the  heathen  tongues. 

To  the  novice  the  spectacle  presented  by  a  number  of 
gayly-accoutered  dog-trains  gliding  merrily  by  is  a  cheerful 
one.  The  tiny  bells  keeping  time  to  the  foot-falls  of  the 
shaggy  train  ;  the  cariole  fantastically  decorated  in  bright, 
warm  colors ;  the  passenger  cozily  wrapped  in  furs  and 
woolens  of  shades  suggestive  of  warmth  and  comfort ;  the 
active  driver  trotting  unweariedly  alongside,  until  the  sledge 
with  all  its  belongings  becomes  a  mere  speck  of  black  upon 
the  limitless  expanse  of  snow — all  conspire  to  commend  dog- 
sledging  to  the  transient  spectator  as  the  ideal  of  winter  travel, 
the  veritable  poetry  of  motion.  The  swan-like  motion  of  the 
sledge  as  its  thin  bottom  yields  in  graceful  curves  and  undu- 
lations, to  adapt  itself  to  inequalities  of  surface  beneath  it,  is 
strangely  suggestive  of  the  progress  of  a  canoe  over  waters 
faintly  ruffled  by  a  passing  breeze.  To  lie  in  such  a  cradle, 
and  be  gently  rocked  over  a  varying  landscape  hour  after 
hour,  would  seem  an  idyllic  life  in  which  satiety  could  never 
come.  But,  suppose  the  cold  to  be  of  that  intensity  which 
it  is  neither  possible  to  picture  nor  describe  ;  of  that  degree 
in  which,  after  having  spoken  of  the  whip-handle  which  burns 
the  hand  that  touches  it,  the  tea  that  freezes  while  it  is  being 
drunk  ;  in  which  an  instant's  exposure  of  the  face  leaves  the 
cheek  or  the  classical  nose  upon  which  one  prides  himself 
white  and  rigid  as  a  piece  of  marble  ;  in  which  the  traveler, 
with  head  bowed  to  meet  the  crushing  blast,  goes  wearily  on, 


' 


'1 


illii 


!   i 


8 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


as  silent  as  the  river  and  forests  through  which  he  rides,  and 
from  whose  rigid  bosom  no  sound  ever  comes,  no  ripple  ever 
breaks,  no  bird,  no  beast,  no  human  face  appears — a  cold  of 
which,  having  said  all  this,  there  is  a  sense  of  utter  inability 
to  convey  any  adequate  idea,  except  that  it  means  sure  and 
certain  death,  with  calm  and  peaceful  face  turned  up  to  the 
sky,  and  form  hard  and  unimpressible  as  if  carved  from 
granite,  within  a  period  whose  duration  would  expire  in  the 
few  hours  of  a  winter's  daylight  if  there  were  no  fire  or  means 
of  making  it  upon  the  track. 

Suppose,  too,  that  the  gently-undulating  motion  of  the 
sledge,  in  accommodating  itself  to  the  inequalities  of  the 
frozen  surface,  which  seemed  so  suggestive  of  a  canoe  floating 
cork-like  upon  rippling  water,  felt,  now  that  one  is  seated  in 
the  sledge,  like  being  dragged  over  a  gravel-walk  upon  a  sheet ; 
or  that  the  track  has  been  completely  snowed  up,  and  the 
wretched  dogs  are  unequal  to  the  emergency.  Mistatim,  the 
leader,  is  willing,  but  young,  thin,  and  weak  ;  the  middle  one, 
Shoathinga,  is  aged  and  asthmatic ;  and  the  shafter,  Kuskita- 
ostiquarn,  lame  and  lethargic.  From  morning  till  night  the 
air  resounds  w^ith  howling  and  the  cries  of  their  drivers  anathe- 
matizing Shoathinga  and  Kuskitaostiquarn.  The  sledges 
constantly  upset  from  running  against  a  stump  or  slipping 
over  a  hillside  ;  and,  when  one  hauls  and  strains  to  right  them, 
the  dogs  lie  quietly  down,  looking  round  at  him,  and  not  offer- 
ing to  pull  an  ounce  to  help.  When  the  driver,  aggravated 
beyond  endurance,  rushes  up,  stick  in  hand,  and  bent  on 
punishment,  they  make  frantic  exertions,  which  only  render 
matters  worse,  resuming  their  quiescent  attitude  the  moment 
he  returns  again  to  haul  at  the  sleigh  ;  and  all  this  time,  per- 


J^ 


1 


A  yOURNEY  BY  DOG-SLEDGE, 


\l 


10 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAND, 


m  \ 


1 1 


! 


!  I 


i 

in  ^ 


M. 

•  \\\ 

!! 

!!^ 

haps,  the  unfortunate  passenger  lies,  bound  and  helpless,  half 
buried  in  the  snow.  Under  these  conditions  the  scene  changes, 
and  the  envious  spectator  of  the  poetry  of  motion  retires  with 
more  sympathy  for  those  old  voyageurs  of  the  fur-trade,  who 
used  to  pay  stipulated  sums  to  the  happy  inventors  of  new  and 
strange  oaths. 

The  fall  of  snow  on  land  being  insufficient  for  sledding 
purposes,  we  followed  the  frozen  channel  of  the  river  as  a 
track,  the  six  trains  gliding  smoothly  over  the  first  stage  of 
their  journey.  Harnessed  in  tandem  fashion,  one  after  an- 
other, the  twenty-four  dogs  and  accompanying  sledges  formed 
a  long  line,  and  presented  a  gallant  spectacle.  Fresh  from  a 
long  rest,  they  trotted  gayly  along,  affording  their  drivers  but 
little  pretext  for  blows  or  imprecation  in  the  breath-taking 
pace  they  attained.  True,  the  gaunt  Cree  dealt  Whiskey  a 
merciless  flick,  from  time  to  time,  and  urged  upon  Brandy  the 
necessity  of  minding  his  eye  ;  but  I  fancy  it  was  owing  more 
to  a  desire  to  keep  his  hand  in  play,  and  his  vocabulary  of 
invective  in  memory,  than  from  any  defect  in  their  work. 
Nevertheless,  such  casual  and  indifferently-bestowed  abuse 
revealed  the  fact  that,  of  the  eight  animals  who  were  doing 
their  best  individually  and  collectively,  to  haul  me  and  my 
baggage  over  that  waste  of  ice,  five  rejoiced  in  the  names  of 
Brandy  and  Whiskey,  while  the  remaining  three  distributed 
Coffee  and  Chocolate  between  them.  This  knowledge  was  a 
blow  under  which  I  reeled.  An  apostle  of  temperance  sweep- 
ing past  lonely  dwellings,  and  dashing  with  a  wild  scurry 
through  Indian  camps,  shrieking  for  strong  drink,  and  followed 
by  a  wild  retainer  opposing  his  demands  with  suggestions  of 
coffee   and  chocolate,  would  likely  convey   to  the   startled 


A  JOURNEY  BY  DOC-SLEDGE. 


II 


dwellers  on  the  plain  the  idea  of  a  migratory  delirium  tre- 
mens, or  a  peripatetic  advertisement  of  "  The  Bar-tender's 
Own  Book."  Upon  inquiry,  however,  my  misery  was  found 
to  have  abundant  company  ;  for,  of  the  sixteen  dogs  attached 
to  the  packet-trains,  no  fewer  than  eleven  reveled  in  an 
alcoholic  nomenclature.  The  reason  assigned  by  the  drivers 
for  so  general  use  of  spirituous  appellations  was,  that  the  mere 
sound  of  these  names  was  suggestive  of  warmth,  comfort,  and 
good  cheer ;  from  which  the  wearied  driver  doubtless  derived 
a  satisfaction  equal  to  washing 

"  .  .  .  .  his  hands  with  invisible  soap, 
In  imperceptible  water." 

Still,  upon  second  thought,  it  may  be  held  that,  as  certain 
colors  are  suggestive  of  warmth  and  comfort — a  stove  painted 
red  about  the  base  ofttimes  deludes  the  casual  visitor  with  the 
idea  of  heat — so  may  the  influence  of  certain  names  be  pro- 
ductive of  like  genial  effect  upon  the  imagination.  How- 
ever it  may  be,  I  know  that  if  such  nomenclature  be  adopted 
without  well-founded  reason  on  the  part  of  the  dog-driver,  it 
is  the  only  thing  in  the  many  curious  phases  of  his  life  that 
is  so  accepted.  Not  a  thread  in  the  web  of  his  existence  but 
has  its  use. 

Twenty  miles  below  our  point  of  departure,  and  perched 
upon  the  lofty  and  precipitous  bluffs  of  the  river,  we  caught 
sight  of  one  of  those  impossible  pictures  of  mediaeval  fortifi- 
cation which  so  often  adorn  the  lids  of  snuff-boxes,  or  the 
pages  of  ancient  albums.  There  were  the  same  peaked  roofs 
and  turrets,  the  same  bleak  view  of  unadorned  stone-wall,  with 
bastions,  ramparts,  gates,  and  all,  as  in  the  original.     But  no 


M 


'*•« 
fii 


mm 


la 


77//-;  r;A'A,4  7'  /ta'  /..'ixn. 


,  phuuod  knight  or  trusty  squire  isstted  from  its  portnh.  uor 
douhlo-hiitulotl  sword  or  glittcriug  armor  tlockod  its  halls.  It 
WAS  the  abode  ol  Dives,  atul  !)ivc!«  Uavles  in  beads  and  gilt,  in 
furs  atul  tobacco,  in  caiile  and  cabt^o,  As  a  rom|>any'»* 
trading-post  it  proved  a  somewhat  extensive  eolleelion  of  resi- 
de»\ces,  shops,  and  stores.  These  were  all  inclosed  within  a 
stone-wall,  pierced  throughout  its  entire  circuit  with  loop- 
holes, so  arrai^ged  as  to  suggest  the  inipiiry  whether,  in  the 
extremely  im]>robablc  evetit  of  tb.e  place  being  besieged,  they 
would  presen.  greater  facilities  t«i  the  defenders  of  the  estab- 
lishment. fV  to  the  assaihnits  ii\  firing  through  them  at  the 
garriscit.  within. 

The  banks  hereabouts  were  high  .•.■.ul  drp.sely  wooded. 
Some  miles  below,  however,  the  >\oods  disappeared,  and  the 
banks,  which  gradually  satik  to  a  lower  level,  were  covered 
with  long,  reedy  grass  Itidian  tents,  surrounded  cvet\  at  that 
late  season  by  nets  hung  up  to  dry,  indicated  the  pursuits  of 
their  owners.  The  stream,  after  reaching  the  low  country, 
split  into  nutnerous  channels,  through  several  of  which  its 
waters  found  their  way  into  Lake  Winnipeg. 

At  the  outlet  of  the  main  channel  our  sledges  were  run 
ashore.  The  bank  here  was  a  long  strip  of  shingle  running 
out  into  the  lake,  the  frozen  waters  of  which  extended  north- 
ward out  of  sight.  We  had  accomplished  over  forty  miles  ; 
the  night  w  as  closing  in,  and  this  was  the  last  available  camp- 
ing-place before  setting  out  upon  the  long  stretches  from  islet 
to  islet,  or  point  to  point,  of  the  lake's  shore.  So  the  drivers 
loosed  their  dogs,  and  proceeded  to  gather  drift-wood  for  the 

♦  The  Company  referred  to  here,  and  elsewhere  tliroughout  the  book 
whelms  the  wcrd  occurs,  is  invariably  the  Hon.  Hudson's  Bay  Company. 


.-/  youKNP.Y  nv  iwasLEnaE, 


n 


night.  I'lic  twcnly-foiir  (logH,  nicmiwhilc,  Hnrveycd  each 
other  grimly,  discovered  points  of  ctitinctle  upon  which  they 
rouM  not  agree,  and  fell  into  a  general  light,  threatening  dis- 
asi roils  ronscqucnccH  until  the  loaded  whip-stocks  of  the  men 
separated  them. 

The  snow  having  been  cleared  away  by  the  aid  of  a  snow- 
shoe  used  as  a  shovel,  and  our  own  stip[)cr  prepared  and 
eaten,  we  turned  our  attention  to  the  dogs  who  had  borne  the 
burden  if  not  the  heat  of  the  day  ;  for  the  sledge-dog's  day  is 
one  long  tissue  of  trial.  Put  to  a  task  from  which  his  whole  na- 
t\jrc  revolts,  he  is  driven  to  the  violation  of  every  instinct  by  the 
continual  lashings  of  a  driver's  whip.  Before  Night  has  lifted 
her  sable  mantle  to  shroud  the  stars,  the  sledge-dog  h.is  his 
Rlumbers  rudely  broken  l)y  the  summons  of  his  master,  Close 
by  the  camp,  under  the  protecting  Ice  of  stimip  or  fallen  tree, 
he  has  lain  coiled  in  the  roundest  of  l)alls  tluring  the  night. 
Perhaps,  if  his  lines  are  cast  in  pleasant  [)laces,  he  has  en- 
croached upon  his  driver's  blanket,  and  contributed  his  vital 
heat  to  the  comfort  of  that  merciless  functionary.  Perhaps, 
too,  the  fast-falling  Hakes  of  the  struw-storni  have  covered  him 
in  their  soft  folds,  adding  to  his  sense  of  warmth,  and  reveal- 
ing his  presence  only  in  the  shape  of  a  rotmded  hillock  of 
snow.  He  may,  perchance,  dream  ti«e  dreams  of  peace  and 
comfort,  or  imagine  that  his  soft  covering  will  render  him 
undistinguishable  irom  the  surrounding  mass  of  white  ;  to  be 
awakened  from  his  delusion  by  blew  of  whip-stock,  a  kick  of 
the  driver's  foot,  and  the  stern  command  to  find  his  place  in 
the  gaudy  gear  of  moose-skin  and  bells  awaiting  him — an 
ornamented  and  bedizened  harness  that  mocks  the  pathos  of 
his  whip-marked  face  and  tremoling  figure.     Then  comes  the 


I 


\r 


h  M 


14 


T//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


] 


f\ 


W 

'!  ? 


!l! 


t  rt 


start.  The  wooded  copse  is  left  behind,  and  under  the  in- 
cipient dawn  he  plods  along  through  the  snow.  The  sleepy 
driver  seeks  to  dissipate  the  morning  cold  by  rapid  motion, 
and  mercilessly  urges  the  dog  to  his  utmost  effort.  The  crisp 
air  resounds  with  the  crack  of  his  whip  and  the  echoes  of  his 
dire  imprecation.  The  dog,  not  yet  nerved  to  his  uncongenial 
labor,  cunningly  takes  every  advantage  to  shirk,  refusing  to 
pull  when  it  is  most  required,  and  showing  wonderful  speed 
and  alacrity,  rushing  off  with  the  heavy  sledge  when  the  dis- 
tracted driver  comes  near  to  punish. 

The  day  dawns,  sun  rises,  morning  merges  into  mid-day, 
and  it  is  time  to  halt  for  a  dinner  in  which  the  hauling-dog 
cannot  share  ;  then  on  again  in  Indian  file,  as  before.  If 
there  be  no  path  in  the  snow,  the  driver  travels  before  to  beat 
one  with  his  snow-shoes,  and  the  "  foregoer,"  or  leading-dog, 
follows  close  behind.  But  if  there  be  a  track,  however  faint, 
the  animal  follows  it  himself  ;  and  when  lost  to  sight  by  wrack 
and  drift  of  tempest,  his  sense  of  smell  enables  him  to  keep  it 
straight.  Thus  through  the  short  hours  of  the  winter's  day 
they  travel  on,  in  withered  woods  through  which  the  wind 
howls  and  shrieks,  or  on  the  endless  expanse  of  snow,  the 
glare  of  whose  unsullied  whiteness  blinds  the  vision  of  the 
lake-traveler ;  through  solitudes  which,  save  when  the  occa- 
sional dog-sledge  with  its  peals  of  bells  in  winter,  or  the 
swiftly-passing  boat-brigade  resonant  with  the  songs  of  the 
summer  voyageurs,  intrudes,  with  its  momentary  variation, 
upon  the  shriek  of  the  all-penetrating  wind,  the  ripple  of  the 
stream,  the  roar  of  the  thunder-toned  waterfall,  or  the  howl  cf 
the  wild  beast  of  the  woods,  are  abandoned  to  the  undisturbed 
possession  of  the  Indian  hunter  and  his  prey. 


if 


A  yOURNE  Y  BY  DOG-SLEDGE. 


15 


When  the  winter's  day  draws  to  a  close,  and  the  twilight 
landscape  has  warned  the  traveler  to  choose  his  resting-place 
for  the  night,  the  sledge-dog  finds  relief  from  his  harness,  and 
his  day's  work  is  at  an  end.     His  battered  and  disfigured 
face  loses  in  some  slight  degree  its  rueful  look,  to  assume  an 
air  of  expectation.     He  stretches  and  rolls  in  the  powdery 
snow,  then  lies  down  to  watch  the  preparation  of  the  evening 
meal,  in  faint  hope  that  some  meagre  portion  may  slip  from 
his  master's  hand,  or  be  left  a  moment   unguarded.     Soon, 
however,   his   watch    merges   into   unconsciousness,    and   he 
sleeps.     But  the  termination  of  his  master's  meal,  followed  by 
the  sound  of  the  axe  striking  the  block  of  pemmican,  or  the 
unloading  of  the  frozen  white-fish  from  the  provision-sledge, 
at  oncp  wakens  him  to  life  and  vigor.     He  leaps  quickly  up, 
an  alert,  vicious  animal,  with  every  instinct   centred  in  an 
eager  craving  for  food.     In  the  plain-country  a  daily  ration 
of  two  pounds  of  pemmican  is  thrown  him  ;  in  the  region  of 
foresi  and  stream,  where  fish  forms  the  staple  food,  he  re- 
ceives two  large  white-fish  raw.     In  his  diet  he  prefers  fish  to 
meat,  and  betrays  its  superiority  in  his  work.     His  one  daily 
meal  is  soon  despatched  ;  no  pleasures  of  deglutition  are  his, 
A  quick  snap,  followed  by  a  moment's  rapid  munching,  and 
the  pemmican  has  disappeared  ;  the  same  short  snap,  a  few 
convulsive  throes,  and  the  frozen  fish  is  bolted  almost  whole, 
and  the  wistful  eyes  turned  up  for  more.     Not  finding  it,  he 
indulges  in  a  season  of  growling  and  snapping  at  his  fellows, 
then  lies  down  out  in  the  snow  to  sleep,  or,  perchance,  to 
dream  of  that  day,  which  never  comes  for  him,  when  the  whip 
shall  be  broken  and  hauling  shall  be  no  more.     Thus  he  re- 
mains till  morn,  unless  some  old  shafter,  grim  and  grey,  rising 


s3« 


r 


iiiii' 


! 

1    iili 

i6 


r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


at  midnight  on  his  haunches,  inaugurates  a  chorus  to  the 
skies  ;  or  a  pack  of  wolves,  seated  like  sentries  in  a  huge 
circle  about  the  camp,  challenge  him  by  quick  barks  to  renew 
their  hereditary  feud. 

The  preparations  for  repose  were  of  the  simplest  descrip- 
tion. As  the  wind  swept  down  the  lake  from  the  north,  our 
heads  were  placed  in  that  quarter,  with  feet  in  dangerous 
proximity  to  the  fire.  On  the  summit  of  the  heap  of  snow 
formed  in  digging  out  our  camping-ground  were  placed,  as  a 
protection  against  the  fierce  blasts,  the  inverted  dog-sledges, 
which  assumed  amid  that  dreary  landscape  the  likeness  of 
head-stones,  marking  our  resting-place  with  a  rude  "  Hie 
jacet."  Descending  into  bed  from  the  surface  of  the  snow, 
and  muffled  in  unlimited  bedding,  the  sensation  given  by  the 
surrounding  banks  and  overhanging  sledges  was  that  of  sleep- 
ing in  a  gigantic  four-poster  with  a  highly-decorated  head- 
board. The  three  drivers  lay  close  together,  but  for  certain 
sanitary  reasons  their  freight  chose  to  form  a  single  spoke  in 
the  wheel,  and  reclined  at  an  angle  of  his  own. 

Sleep  comes  soon  to  the  traveler  in  arctic  winters  ;  but  a 
beautitul  dream  of  a  little  maiden  who  was  wont  to  disport 
upon  my  knees  was  rudely  broken  by  a  visible  perception  of 
peril — a  consciousness  of  the  hovering  presence  of  evil.  How 
to  describe  these  feelings  I  know  not ;  but  as,  if  the  eyes  of 
a  watcher  are  steadily  fixed  upon  the  countenance  of  a  sleeper 
for  a  certain  length  of  time,  the  slumberer  will  certainly  start 
up,  wakened  by  the  mysterious  magnetism  of  a  recondite 
principle  of  clairvoyance,  so  it  was  that,  with  closed  eyes  and 
drowsed-up  senses,  an  inward  ability  was  conferred  upon  me 
to  detect  the  presence  of   danger  near  me — to   see,  though 


A  yOU/iiVEY  BY  DOG-SLEDGE. 


17 


\  \ 


i   I 


i8 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


%\\ 


IL  ;i 


slcc|)-l)lind,  the  formless  shape  of  a  mysterious  horror  crouch- 
ing beside  me.  And,  as  if  the  i)eril  that  was  my  night-mate 
was  of  a  nature  to  he  (luickened  into  fatal  activity  by  any 
motion  on  my  part,  I  felt  in  my  very  stupor  the  critical  neces- 
sity of  lying  (luite  still  ;  so  that,  when  1  at  last  awoke  and  felt 
that,  as  I  lay  with  my  face  to  the  sky,  there  was  a  thick, 
heavy,  shivering  thing  upon  my  chest,  I  stirred  not,  nor 
littered  a  word  of  panic.  Danger  and  fear  may  occasionally 
•dull  the  sense  and  paralyze  the  faculties,  but  they  more  fre- 
quently sharpen  both  ;  and  when  I  say  that  the  whole  of  my 
chest  and  even  the  pit  of  my  stomach  were  covered  with  the 
heavy  proportions  of  the  thing,  its  considerable  size  will  be 
acknowledged.  A  cold  sweat  burst  from  every  i)ore.  I 
could  hear  the  beating  of  my  heart,  and  I  felt,  to  my  in- 
creased dismay,  that  the  palsy  of  terror  had  begun  to  agitate 
my  limbs.  "It  will  wake,"  thought  I,  "and  then  all  is 
over ! " 

At  this  juncture  there  sounded  above  my  head  a  prolonged 
howl,  caught  up  and  reiterated  in  varying  chorus  by  a  circle 
of  hoarse  voices  surrounding  our  couch.  And  upon  this  the 
thing  rose  up  on  my  chest  with  a  quick  start,  and  joined  the 
dismal  refrain  with  a  barytone  of  remarkable  power ;  while 
the  voice  of  my  protecting  Cree  rang  out  in  sudden  anger  : 
"  Whiskey,  marche  !  Sacre  chien,  passe  partout !  "  and  the 
warmth-seeking  Whiskey  shrank  quickly  from  his  living  ped- 
estal to  join  his  brethren  of  the  mystic  circle  on  the  snow 
above.  Thus  relieved  from  the  weight  of  the  sledge-dog,  who 
had  presv-  .  '  upon  a  gentler  nature  to  increase  his  own  com- 
fort, ^  '  V  i.iutiously  up  and  beheld  a  scene  the  most 
grote&i 


A  JOURNEY  BY  DOG'SLEDGE. 


19 


Seated  upon  tlic  highest  inverted  sledge,  with  a  look  of 
utter  dejection  and  overpowering  anguish  of  soul,  sat  the  aged 
leader  of  a  packet-train,  lifting  U[)  his  voice  in  a  series  of 
heart-rending  howls  in  deep  bass.  Seated  in  a  like  manner  at 
regular  intervals  about  him,  and  forming  a  huge  circle  inclos- 
ing the  camp,  were  the  remaining  twenty-three  dogs,  taking 
their  cue  from  the  leader,  and  joining  the  chorus  in  dismal 
tenor  and  rasping  soprano.  The  weird  melancholy  of  that 
howling  brought  a  sense  of  utter  loneliness  and  desolation. 
The  echoes  reverberated  over  the  lake,  and  died  away  in 
mournful,  wailing  cadences  on  the  night-wind.  The  isola- 
tion seemed  to  deepen,  and  become  [)alpable.  Above,  the 
sky  was  spangled  with  such  myriads  of  stars  as  are  only  seen 
in  northern  latitudes ;  around  lay  a  dreary  waste  of  greyish 
white,  empty,  desolate,  and  void  of  life  ;  no  sound  save  the 
dismal  howling  of  the  dogs.  Soon,  however,  there  was  inter- 
mingled with  it  much  heathen  profanity  and  objurgation,  de- 
livered in  various  tongues.  The  chorus  had  awakened  the 
drivers,  who  were  endeavoring  to  quiet  the  dogs  by  impreca- 
tions, in  order  to  avoid  the  necessity  of  rising  and  using  the 
whip.  "  Brandy  !  Brandy  I  sacre  d^mon  !  "  "  Coffee  !  ye  ould 
sinner,  pren'  garde ! "  **  Chocolat,  crapaud  that  ye  aire, 
Chocolat!"  "Whiskey!  ah,  sal-au-prix ! "  "Whiskey!" 
"  Ah,  Coffee  !  you  will  catch  it  presently  !  '*  "  Capitaine  ! 
Mistatim  !  "  "Brandy  !  'ere  d^mon  !  "  Then  followed  an  out- 
burst of  profanity,  and  a  hasty,  furious  shout  to  the  whole 
circle,  resembling  a  call  for  mixed  drinks  which  has  had  no 
equal  since  the  "  opening  "  of  the  first  bar  on  the  Pacific  slope. 
All  this,  however,  proved  of  no  avail,  and  the  distracted  drivers 
were  finally  forced  to  leave  their  warm  beds  and  grasp  their 


ii 


I         i 


lil  ts 


I  H 


I 


i  I 


20 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


whips,  upon  which  the  wretched  animals  darted  off  in  agonies 
of  fear. 

Three  hours  before  dawn  we  arose  and  prepared  for  de- 
parture by  eating  a  fat  breakfast  and  swallowing  a  great  many 
cups  of  tea.  Then  my  uncivilized  driver  of  dogs,  who  joined 
the  second-sight  of  a  weather-seer  to  his  other  accomplish- 
ments, took  an  inventory  of  the  weather,  and  predicted  a 
storm  before  nightfall.  However,  the  morning  was  as  favora- 
ble as  one  could  wish,  and,  incased  in  robes  and  blankets,  1 
slid  into  the  shoe-like  sledge  and  was  off,  the  central  figure  of 
the  six  sledges  and  a  herd  of  howling  dogs  and  drivers.  The 
point  at  which  we  had  encamped  became  speedily  undistin- 
guishable  among  the  long  line  of  apparently  exactly  similar 
localities  ranging  along  the  low  shore.  On  in  the  gray  snow- 
light,  with  a  fierce  wind  sweeping  down  the  long  reaches  of 
the  lake  ;  nothing  spoken,  for  such  cold  weather  makes  men 
silent,  morose,  and  savage. 

Lake-travel,  though  rapid,  is  exceedingly  harassing  on 
account  of  the  high  winds  which  perpetually  sweep  over  the 
immense  plain  of  their  frozen  surface,  intensifying  even 
moderate  cold  to  a  painful  degree.  The  ice  is  always  rough, 
coated  with  snow  of  varying  thickness,  or  drifted  into  hillocks 
and  ridges,  alternating  with  spots  of  glass-like  smoothness, 
which  are  constantly  upsetting  the  sledges.  And  this  same 
upsetting,  a  trifling  matter  enough  on  shore,  is  likely  to  prove 
a  serious  annoyance  where  the  hardness  of  the  ice  nearly 
breaks  one's  bones.  The  same  hardness,  too,  increases  the 
fatigue  of  sledge-travel,  which  at  its  best  may  be  likened  to 
sitting  on  a  thin  board  dragged  quickly  over  a  newly-macad- 
amized road.     Then,  too,  the  pedestrian  on  a  frozen  lake 


I 


A  JOURNEY  BY  DOG-SLEDGE. 


21 


labors  under  peculiar  disadvantages.  Where  the  snow  lies 
deeply,  the  crust  gives  way  at  each  step,  precipitating  the  driver 
to  the  bottom  with  a  sudden  jar ;  where  it  lies  thinly  on  the 
surface,  or  is  drifted  away,  the  hardness  of  the  ice  injures 
even  the  practiced  voyageurs,  causing  swellings  of  the  ankles 
and  soles  of  the  feet,  and  enlargement  of  the  lower  bacli 
sinews  of  the  legs.  Again,  the  winter  traveler  speedily  dis 
covers  that  very  slight  exercise  induces  copious  perspiration, 
which  in  the  most  momentary  halt,  gets  cold  upon  the  skin  , 
in  fact,  in  a  high  wind,  the  exposed  side  will  appear  frozen 
over,  while  the  rest  of  the  body  is  comparatively  warm  and 
comfortable.  Once  cold  in  this  way,  it  is  almost  impossible 
to  get  warm  again  without  the  heat  of  fire,  or  the  severest 
exercise  ;  and,  should  the  latter  be  adopted,  it  must  perforce 
be  continued  until  a  camping-place  is  reached.  Moreover,  to 
a  strong  man,  there  is  something  humiliating  in  being  hauled 
about  in  a  portable  bed,  like  some  feeble  invalid,  while  the 
hardy  voyageurs  are  maintaining  their  steady  pace  from  hour 
to  hour,  day  to  day,  or  week  to  week  ;  for  fatigue  seems  with 
them  an  unknown  word. 

Toward  noon  there  were  indications  that  the  prophetic 
skill  of  my  heathen  driver  was  about  to  be  verified.  The 
wind  still  kept  dead  against  us,  and  at  times  it  was  impos- 
sible to  face  its  terrible  keenness.  So  great  was  the  drift 
that  it  obscured  the  little  light  atforded  by  the  sun — which 
was  very  low  in  the  heavens — through  a  cloudy  atmos- 
phere. The  dogs  began  to  tire  out ;  the  ice  cut  their  feet, 
and  the  white  surface  was  often  dotted  with  the  crimson 
icicles  that  fell  from  their  bleeding  toes.  The  four  canines 
hauling  the  provision-sled  turned  back  whenever  opportunity 


I  ;y 


22 


m 


THE  GKKA  T  FUR  LAND. 


presented,  or  faced  about  and  sat  shivering  upon  their 
haunches.  Under  these  circnnnstances  the  anathemas  of  the 
Cree  grew  fearful  to  the  ear  ;  for,  of  all  the  (jualifications 
requisite  to  the  successful  driving  of  dogs,  none  is  more  neces- 
sary than  an  ability  to  imprecate  freely  and  with  considerable 
variety  in  at  least  three  different  languages.  But,  whatever 
number  of  tongues  be  employed,  one  is  absolutely  indispen- 
sable to  perfection  in  the  art,  and  that  is  French.  Whether 
the  construction  of  that  dulcet  tongue  enables  the  speaker  to 
deliver  profanity  with  more  bullet-like  force  and  precision,  or 
to  attain  a  greater  degree  of  intensity  than  by  other  means,  I 
know  not ;  but  I  do  know  that,  while  curses  seem  useful  ad- 
juncts in  any  language,  curses  delivered  in  French  will  get  a 
train  of  dogs  through  or  over  anything.  For  all  dogs  in  the 
North  it  is  the  simplest  mode  of  persuasion.  If  the  dog  lies 
down,  curse  him  until  he  gets  up  ;  if  he  turns  about  in  the 
harness,  curse  him  until  he  reverts  to  his  original  position  ;  if 
he  looks  tired,  curse  him  until  he  becomes  animated  ;  and, 
when  you  grow  weary  of  cursing  him,  get  another  man  to  con- 
tinue the  process. 

As  the  eaucation  of  the  Cree,  so  far  as  regarded  the  French 
language,  had  seemingly  been  conducted  with  an  eye  single  to 
the  acquirement  of  anathemas,  which  long  practice  enabled  him 
to  use  with  such  effect  that  the  dogs  instinctively  dodged  them 
as  if  they  had  been  the  sweep  of  a  descending  lash,  our  speed 
at  first  was  not  materially  affected  by  the  attempted  baitings  of 
the  weary  animals.  But,  as  the  storm  increased  in  violence, 
and  the  swirl  of  powdery  snow  swept  in  their  faces,  the  dogs 
turned  about  more  frequently,  and  seized  every  opportunity 
of  shirking.     Then  ensued  that  inhuman  thrashing  and  varied 


//  JOURNEY  BY  DOCSLEDGE. 


33 


cursing,  that  howling  of  clogs  and  systematic  brutality  of  dri 
vers,  wliich  make  up  the  romance  of  winter-travel,  and  degrade 
the  driver  lower  than  the  brutes.  The  perversion  of  the  dog 
from  his  true  use  to  that  of  a  beast  of  l)urden  is  productive  of 
countless  forms  of  deception  and  cunning  ;  but  a  life  of  bond- 
age everywhere  jiroduces  in  the  slave  vices  with  which  it  is 
unfair  to  blame  him.  Dogs  are  often  stubborn  and  provoking, 
and  require  flogging  until  brought  into  sul)jection  ;  but  lash- 
ings upon  the  body  while  laboring  in  the  trains,  systematic 
floggings  upon  the  head  till  their  ears  drop  blood,  beatings 
with  whip-stocks  until  nose  and  jaws  are  one  deep  wound,  and 
poundings  with  clubs  and  stamping  with  boots  till  their  howls 
merge  into  low  wails  of  agony,  are  the  fretjuent  penalties  of  a 
slight  deviation  from  duty. 

Of  the  four  dogs  attached  to  the  provision-sledge,  three 
underwent  repeated  beatings  at  the  hands  of  the  Cree.  IJy 
mid-afternoon  the  head  of  Whiskey  was  reduced  to  a  bleeding, 
swollen  mass  from  tremendous  thrashings.  Chocolat  had  but 
one  eye  wherewith  to  watch  the  dreaded  driver,  and  Brandy 
had  wasted  so  much  strength  in  wild  lurches  and  sudden 
springs,  in  order  to  dodge  the  descending  whip,  that  he  had 
none  remaining  for  the  legitimate  task  of  hauling  the  sledge. 
But  one  train  of  dogs  out  of  the  six  sledges  fared  better,  and 
that  one  was  composed  of  animals  of  the  Esquimaux  breed. 
Fox-headed,  long-furred,  clean-legged,  whose  ears,  sharp- 
pointed  and  erect,  sprang  from  a  head  imbedded  in  thick, tufts 
of  woolly  hair,  hauling  to  them  was  as  natural  as  to  watch  is 
natural  to  the  watch-dog.  And  of  the  whole  race  of  dogs,  the 
Esquimaux  alone  should  be  made  a  hauling-dog.  He  alone 
looks  happy  in  his  work,  and  is  a  good  hauler  ;  and  although 


24 


TffE  CKEAT  ruK  r.AXtX 


other  do^s  will  surpass  him  in  speed  tor  a  few  tlays,  only  he 
can  inaintain  a  steady  pace  throughout  a  long  journey,  and 
come  ii\  fresh  at  its  end. 

At  length  the  vi»)len«e  of  the  storm  forced  us  to  seek  the 
Bhore,  and  camp  for  the  nighl  ;  and  no  sooner  had  this  been 
accomplished,  at^d  supper  over,  than  the  C'ree,  fearing  a  ccn- 
tinuance  of  the  storm,  summoned  a  driver  of  the  packet-trains 
to  assist  in  performing  a  solemn  invocatioti  to  the  Manitou  to 
stay  the  tempest.  Rattles  made  of  blatlders,  with  pebbles  \\\ 
them,  were  brought  out  fron\  their  limited  luggage  ;  "  medi- 
cine "  belts  of  wolf-skin  donned,  and  other  "  tnedicine  "  or 
magic  articles,  such  as  ermine-skins,  and  musk-rat  skins, 
covered  with  beads  and  (juills.  I'hen  the  Cree  and  his  com- 
panion drunimed  and  rattled,  and  sang  songs,  finishing,  after 
some  hours,  by  a  long  speech,  which  they  repeated  together, 
in  which  they  i>romised  to  give  the  Manitou  a  feast  of  fat 
meat,  and  to  compose  a  new  song  in  his  praise  immediately 
upon  the  cessation  of  the  storm.  After  this  performance  they 
fell  asleep.  I-ong  before  daylight,  however,  I  was  awakened 
by  the  conjurers,  who,  in  high  glee,  were  cutting  off  tidbits  of 
pemmican  and  casting  them  into  the  fire  as  the  promised  offer- 
ing to  the  Manitou,  at  the  same  time  chanting  monotonously, 
and  sounding  their  rattles.  Then  they  engaged  in  feasting, 
and  banished  sleep  by  the  persistency  with  which  they  sanv; 
the  new  song  they  jiretended  to  have  composed  for  the  occu  • 
sion,  w^hich  they  continued  to  sing  over  nnd  over  again  without 
cessation  until  morning.  As  they  had  both  been  fast  asleep 
nil  night,  it  is  shrewdly  suspected  that  they  attempted  to  im- 
pose upon  their  Maiiitou  by  making  shift  with  an  old  hymn, 


A  JOURNEY  liV  DOU.SLEDGR, 


35 


for  they  certainly  could  have  had  no  o|)portnnity  for  compos- 
ing the  new  one  jjroniised.  However  this  may  be,  th>'  Mnnitoii 
performed  iiis  part,  for  the  storm  was  much  abated 

At  an  early  hour  a  start  was  again  made  in  the  usual  man- 
ner— the  harsh  command  "Marchc  !"  followed  by  deep-toned 
yells  from  the  crcuuhing  dogs  ;  then,  a  merciless  bei'ting  and 
thumping,  antl  the  cowerin;,  animals  at  length  set  off  with  the 
heavy  loads,  howling  as  if  their  hearts  would  break.  After  the 
thrashing  came  the  abuso  and  curses.  Coffee  would  be  ap- 
pealed to  "  for  the  love  of  Heaven  to  straighten  his  traces." 
Chocolat  would  be  solemnly  informed  that  he  was  a  migratory 
swindle,  and  possessed  of  no  character  whatever.  Brandy 
would  be  entreated  to  "just  see  if  he  couldn't  do  a  little  bet- 
ter ; "  that  he  was  the  offspring  of  very  disreputable  parents, 
and  would  be  thrashed  presently.  The  passenger's  only  occu- 
pation was  to  keep  from  freezing.  Vain  task !  Though 
buried  head  and  all  in  two  robes  and  a  blanket,  the  wind  found 
its  way  through  everything,  and  the  master,  sitting  still  in  his 
wraps,  suffered  more  from  cold  than  his  man  who  was  running 
against  the  wind,  and  suffered,  besides,  under  the  depressing 
sense  of  his  idle  helplessness,  while  the  driver  felt  the  cheering 
influence  of  hardy  toil. 

Thus  we  journeyed  on,  the  incidents  of  one  day  being  but 
an  iteration  of  that  preceding.  For  eight  days  our  course  led 
from  point  to  point  of  the  lake's  shore,  upon  the  immense  sur- 
face of  which  our  six  fleeting  sledges  seemed  the  veriest  crawl- 
ing insects.  Nevertheless,  we  passed  in  rapid  flight,  at  last 
sweeping  up  the  rocky  promontory  and  within  the  palisade  of 


11 


36 


VHH  iifiEA  r  FCK'  LAND. 


Nv^nvay  House,  like  the  ghostly  stoimers  of  the  Rhenish  rnHtle. 
In  this  hospitable  shelter  wo  halted  for  a  time,  while  the  ^rcat 
Northern  paeket  i»>v>rneyeil  on  toward  the  unknown  land  of 
the  far  N«)rth.  The  tlogs  slept  ^piietly  in  their  kennels  ;  the 
heathen  Cree,  with  his  hardly-earned  sovereigns,  arrayed  him- 
self in  n\orc  intricate  apparel,  and  stalked  a  grecn-and-yellow 
ai^parition  among  the  stpialid  t<fS€S  of  a  neighboring  liulian 
camp. 


h^   I 


W'X< 


CHAPTBR  Ih 


CANOK    I. Ill' 


OUMMKR  in  tlu'  I'lir  I, unci  trculH ho  closely  upon  the hecU 
^~-^  of  winter  as  to  leave  hut  little  HtandinK  room  for  Hpring. 
About  the  second  week  in  April  the  earth  begins  to  soften  ; 
the  forest  becomes  fragrant  with  last  year's  leaves  and  this 
year's  buds  ;  the  little  rills  wander  feebly  riverward,  and  the 
wild  duck  wings  its  flight  along  the  water-courses.  During 
the  following  week  the  days  grow  soft  and  warm  ;  rain  falls  in 
occasional  showers  ;  the  thermometer  varies  from  fifty  to  sixty 
degrees  between  daybreak  and  mid-afternoon,  A  few  days 
later,  the  river,  which  hitherto  has  churlishly  resisted  all  the 
advances  of  spring,  begins  to  show  symptoms  of  yielding  at 
last  to  her  soft  entreaties.  Tears  rise  upon  his  iron  face,  and 
flow  down  his  frosted  cheeks;  his  great  heart  seem-,  to  well 
within  him,  and  ominous  groans  break  from  hi  lon,j-iji'cnt 
bosom.  At  night,  however,  he  thinks  better  of  i  ,  and  looks 
grim,  rigid  and  unsusceptible  in  the  early  morning  n«  if  slight- 
ly ashamed  of  his  weakness.  But  spring,  shower,  xnc\  sun  are 
at  last  too  strong  for  him.  All  his  children  are  already  awake. 
They  prattle  and  purl  and  pull  at  him,  urging  him  to  open  his 
lorjT  closed  eyelids,  to  look  once  more  at  the  blue  and  golden 
summer. 


i 

1  i 

1           Ml 

•                    ^U 

1 

i 

^li'i 

.{ 

ii 

1 

1  11  i 

III 

i 

tffli- 

'„ 

28 


T//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


With  the  coming  of  the  delicate  flowers  and  vernal  bloom 
of  early  May,  he  gives  way  suddenly  and  throws  off  his  icy 
mask.  Inanimate  nature  seems  to  caress  him  for  the  sacrifice. 
The  wild  flowers  and  green  grasses  grow  down  close  to  the 
water's  edge ;  the  bright  leaves  spring  forth  and  fling  their 
shadows  over  the  flood  ;  the  balsamic  pine  and  fir  kiss  the 
placid  surface  with  their  overhanging  branches.  Animate 
nature  expresses  its  joy.  The  teal,  the  widgeon,  the  mallard 
float  upon  its  broad  bosom  ;  the  grey  goose  and  wavy  crowd 
its  estuaries  ;  the  crane  stands  motionless  on  one  leg,  knee- 
deep  in  the  turbid  tide  ;  all  the  wild  things  of  the  water  sport 
upon  its  surface. 

The  red  man  lifts  his  birch -bark  canoe  from  its  resting- 
place,  and  launches  it  upon  the  flood.  It  is  as  wild  and  beau- 
tiful as  any  bird  of  them  all.  Through  the  long  winter  it  has 
Iain  beneath  a  covering  of  snow  and  branches  ;  now,  the  wild 
swan  and  wavy,  passing  northward  to  the  polar  seas,  wake  it 
from  its  icy  sleep.  The  canoe  is  a  part  of  the  savage  ;  useless 
to  carry  the  burden  of  man's  labor,  fitted  alone  for  him  and 
his  ways.  After  generations  of  use,  it  has  grown  into  the 
economy  of  his  life.  What  the  horse  is  to  the  Arab,  the  camel 
to  the  desert  traveler,  or  the  dog  to  the  Esquimaux,  the  birch- 
bark  canoe  is  to  the  Indian.  The  forests  along  the  river  shores 
yield  all  the  materials  requisite  for  its  construction  ;  cedar  for 
its  ribs  ;  birch-bark  for  its  outer  covering ;  the  thews  of  the 
juniper  to  sew  together  the  separate  pieces  ;  red  pine  to  give 
resin  for  the  seams  and  crevices.  It  is  built  close  to  the  hunt- 
ing-lodge on  river  or  lake  shore. 


CANOE  LIFE. 


29 


"  And  the  forest  life  is  in  it — 
All  its  mystery  and  magic, 
All  the  tightness  of  the  birch-tree, 
All  the  toughness  of  the  cedar, 
All  the  larch's  supple  sinews, 
/\nd  it  floated  on  the  river 
Like  a  ye. low  leaf  in  autumn, 
Like  a  yellow  water  lily." 

During  the  summer  season  the  canoe  is  the  home  of  the 
red  man.  It  is  not  only  a  boat,  but  a  house  ;  he  turns  it  over 
him  as  a  prc.j  on  when  he  camps  ;  he  carries  it  long  dis- 
tances over  '  ■  "^  ropi  lake  10  lake.  Frail  beyond  words,  yet 
he  loads  it  down  to  the  water's  edge.  In  it  he  steers  boldly 
out  into  ti:c  broadest  lak'*.  or  paddles  through  wood  and  swamp 
and  reedy  si.?i.!ow — alnrost  over  dry  land  in  a  heavy  dew. 
Sitting  in  it  he  gather"  h'  narve^t  of  wild  rice,  or  catches  fish, 
or  steals  upon  his  yame  ;  dashes  down  the  wildest  rapid,  braves 
the  foaming  torrent,  or  lies  like  a  wild  bird  on  the  placid 
waters.  While  the  trees  are  green,  while  the  waters  dance  and 
sparkle,  and  the  wild  duck  dwells  in  the  sedgy  ponds,  the 
birch-bark  canoe  is  the  red  .w,   ''s  home. 

And  how  well  he  knov.,  Xut  '^ods  of  the  river  !  the  mul- 
tiplicity of  its  perils,  ar'<  .»,  ^  "f-changmg  beauty  !  To  him 
it  is  replete  with  all  wild  n.  ...ts.  He  speaks  of  it  as  he 
does  of  his  horse,  ■•:  his  dog,  \v;;G  \viI1  do  whatever  he  com- 
mands. It  give?  him  his  test  of  superiority,  his  proof  of 
courage.  To  gu;  Je  his  cinoe  through  some  whirling  eddy, 
to  shoot  some  roaring  witerfall,  to  launch  it  by  the  edge  of 
some  fiercely-rushing  to'^rent,  or  dash  down  a  foaming  rapid, 
is  to  be  a  brave  and  skiufui  Indian.  The  man  who  does  all 
this,  and  does  it  well,  inns'-  -'^ssesj'  a  rapidity  of  glance,  a 


w 


'liMi 


iSP 


m 


30 


r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


power  in  the  sweep  of  his  paddle,  and  a  quiet  consciousness 
of  skill,  not  attained  save  by  long  years  of  practice. 

An  exceedingly  light  and  graceful  craft  is  the  birch-bark 
canoe  ;  a  type  of  speed  and  beauty.  So  light  that  one  man 
can  easily  carry  it  on  his  shoulder  over  land  where  a  waterfall 
obstructs  his  progress  ;  and  as  it  only  sinks  five  or  six  inches 
in  the  water,  few  places  are  too  shallow  to  float  it.  The  bark 
of  the  birch-tree,  of  which  it  is  made,  is  ab^>  a  quarter  of  an 
inch  thick.     Inside  of  it  is  laid  a  lining  c  'lely  thin 

flakes  of  wood,  over  which  are  driven  a  numbei  •  ''^iit  bows 
to  give  strength  and  solidity  to  the  canoe.  In  this  frail  bark, 
which  measures  anywhere  from  twelve  to  forty  feet  long,  and 
from  two  to  five  feet  broad  in  the  middle,  the  Indian  and  his 
family  travel  over  the  innumerable  lakes  and  rivers,  and  the 
fur-hunters  pursue  their  lonely  calling. 

In  the  old  life  of  the  wilderness  the  canoe  played  an  im- 
portant jiart,  and  the  half-breed  voyageur  was  a  skilled  rival 
of  the  red  man  in  its  management.  Before  the  consolidation 
of  the  Fur  Companies,*  when  rival  corporations  contended 
for  the  possession  of  the  trade  of  the  Fur  Land,  the  echoes 
along  the  river  reaches  and  gloomy  forests  were  far  oftener 
and  more  loudly  awakened  than  now.  The  Northwest 
Company,  having  its  head-quarters  in  Montreal,  imported 
its  entire  supplies  into  the  country  and  exported  all  their  furs 
out  of  it  in  north  canoes.  Carrying  on  business  upon  an 
extended  scale,  the  traffic  was  correspondingly  great.  Not 
less  than  ten  brigades,  each  numbering  twenty  canoes,  passed 
*  The  Hudson's  Bay,  Northwest,  and  X.  Y.  Companies. 


m 


CANOE   LIFE. 


51 


over  the  route  during  the  summer  months.  The  first  half  of 
the  journey,  over  the  great  lakes,  was  made  in  very  large 
canoes,  known  as  canotes  de  maitrc^  a  considerable  number  of 
which  are  still  kept  at  the  border  posts  for  the  use  of  the 
company's  travelers.  These  canoes  are  of  the  largest  size, 
exceeding  the  north  canoe  in  length  by  several  feet,  besides 
being  much  broader  and  deeper.  They  are,  however,  too 
large  and  cumbersome  for  traveling  in  the  interior — where 
the  canoe  goes  literally  over  hill  and  dale — requiring  four 
men  to  carry  them  instead  of  two,  like  the  north  canoe  ;  be- 
sides, they  are  capable  of  carrying  twice  as  much  cargo,  and 
are  paddled  by  fourteen  or  sixteen  voyageurs. 

The  north  canoe,  the  ideal  craft  of  the  summer  voyageur, 
and  which  still  plays  an  important  part  in  the  fur-trade,  is  a 
light  and  graceful  vessel  about  thirty-six  feet  long,  by  four  or 
five  broad,  and  capable  of  containing  eight  men  and  three 
passengers.  Made  entirely  of  birch-bark,  it  is  gaudily  painted 
on  bow  and  stern  with  those  mystical  figures  which  the  super- 
stitious boatmen  believe  to  increase  its  speed.  In  this  fairy- 
like craft  the  traveler  sweeps  swiftly  over  the  long  river- 
reaches  ;  the  bright  vermilion  paddles  glancing  in  the  sun- 
shine, and  the  forests  echoing  back  the  measures  of  some 
weird  boat-song,  sung  by  the  voyageurs  in  full  chorus  ;  now 
floating  down  a  swiftly-rushing  rapid,  again  gliding  over  the 
surface  of  a  quiet  lake,  or  making  a  portage  over  land  where 
a  rapid  is  too  dangerous  to  descend. 

Those  who  have  not  seen  it  can  have  but  a  faint  idea  of 
the    picturesque    effects    of    these    passing  canoe-brigades. 


I  •' 


4 

\ 
t 


T 


32 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND, 


Sweeping  suddenly  round  some  promontory  in  the  wilderness, 
they  burst  unexpectedly  upon  the  view,  like  some  weird 
phantom  of  mirage.  At  the  same  moment  the  wild  yet  simple 
chansons  of  the  voya^i:;curs  strike  upon  the  ear  : 

"  Qui  en  a  compost  la  chanson  ? 
C'est  IMerre  Falcon  !  le  bon  gallon  ! 
EUe  a  cte  faiie  et  compose 
Sur  le  victoire  que  nous  avons  gagn^  ! 
Elle  a  et^  faite  et  compose 
Chantons  la  gloire  de  tons  ces  Bois>bruIes  !" 

Sung  with  all  the  force  of  a  hundred  voices  ;  which,  rising 
and  falling  in  soft  cadences  in  the  distwre,  a;^  '>  is  borne 
lightly  upon  the  breeze,  then  more  steadily  as  ll.ey  approach 
swells  out  in  the  rich  tones  of  many  a  mellow  voice,  and 
bursts  at  last  into  a  long,  enthusiastic  chorus.  The  deep 
forests  and  precipitous  banks  echo  back  the  refrain  in  varying 
volume  ;  the  long  line  of  canoes  is  half  shrouded  in  the  spray 
that  flies  from  the  bright  vermilion  paddles,  as  they  are  urged 
over  the  wr  v  r  with  the  speed  of  the  flying  deer,  until,  sweep- 
ing round  some  projecting  headland,  they  disappear,  like 
"  the  baseless  fabric  of  a  dream." 

But  the  winged  passage  of  these  birds  of  flight  conveys  but 
a  faint  idea  of  the  sensation  experienced  on  witnessing  the 
arrival  of  a  brigade  at  an  inland  post  after  a  long  journey. 
It  is  then  they  appear  in  all  their  wild  perfection  ;  and  the 
spectator  catches  a  glimpse  of  the  supreme  picturesqueness  of 
the  Fur  Land.  The  voyageurs  upon  such  occasions  are  at- 
tired in  their  most  bewildering  apparel,  and  gaudy  feathers, 


CANOE  LIFE. 


33 


ribbons  and  tassels  stream  in  abundance  from  their  caps  and 
garters,  (layly  ornamented,  and  ranged  side  by  side,  like  con- 
tending chariots  in  the  arena,  the  frail  canoes  skim  like  a  bird 
of  passage  over  the  water  ;  scarcely  seeming  to  touch  it  under 
the  vigorous  and  rapid  strokes  of  the  small  but  numerous 
paddles  by  which  the  powerful  voyagcurs  strain  every  muscle 
and  nerve  to  urge  them  on.  A  light  mist,  rising  from  the 
river,  etches  them  while  yet  afar  in  shadowy  outline,  augment- 
ing their  symmetry,  like  a  veil  thrown  over  the  face  of 
Beauty.  The  beautifully  simple,  lively,  yet  plaintive  chdnson^ 
so  much  in  unison  with,  that  it  seems  a  part  of,  the  surround- 
ing scenery,  and  yet  so  different  from  any  other  melody,  falls 
sweetly  upon  the  ear.  In  the  distance  it  comes  with  the 
l)leasing  melancholy  of  "  Home,  Sweet  Home  !  "  and  seems 
the  vocal  expression  of  the  voyageurs'  thoughts  of  their  native 
land.  On  its  nearer  approach,  it  changes  the  feeling  into  one 
of  exultation,  as  the  deep  manly  voices  swell  in  chorus  over 
the  placid  waters — the  "  Marseillaise  "  of  the  wilderness. 

Hearing  the  landing,  a  spirit  of  competition  arises  as  to 
who  shall  arrive  first.  The  long  canoes  speed  over  the 
waters,  like  a  flight  of  arrows,  to  the  very  edge  of  the  wharf  ; 
then,  as  if  by  magic,  come  suddenly  to  a  pause.  The  paddles 
are  rolled  on  the  gunwale  simultaneously,  enveloping  their 
holders  in  a  shower  of  spray,  as  they  shake  the  dripping 
water  from  the  bright  vermilion  blades,  and  climb  lightly  from 
their  seats. 

Canoe  travel  in  the  Fur  Land  presents  many  picturesque 
phases.     Just  as  the  first  faint  tinge  of  coming  dawn  steals 


1/ 


34 


THE  ORE  A  T  FUR  LAND. 


ji 

tli 

over  the  east,  the  canoe  is  lifted  gently  from  its  ledge  of  rock 
and  laid  upon  the  water.  The  blankets,  the  kettles,  the  guns, 
and  all  the  paraphernalia  of  the  camp,  are  placed  in  it,  and  the 
swarthy  voyageurs  step  lightly  in.  All  but  one.  He  remains 
on  shore  to  steady  the  bark  on  the  water,  and  keep  its  sides 
from  contact  with  the  rock.  It  is  necessary  to  be  thus  careful 
with  canoes,  as  the  gum  or  pitch  with  which  the  sides  are 
plastered  breaks  off  in  lumps,  and  makes  the  craft  leaky.  The 
passenger  takes  his  place  in  the  centre,  the  outside  man  springs 
gently  in,  and  the  birch-bark  canoe  glides  away  from  its  rocky 
jresting-place. 

Each  hour  reveals  some  new  phase  of  beauty,  some  chang- 
ing scene  of  lonely  grandeur.  The  canoe  sweeps  rapidly  over 
*he  placid  waters ;  now  buffets  with,  and  advances  against, 
ithe  rushing  current  of  some  powerful  river,  which  seems  to 
"bid  defiance  to  its  further  progress ;  again,  is  carried  over 
rocks  and  through  deep  forests,  when  some  foaming  cataract 
bars  its  way  ;  and  yet  again,  dashes  across  some  silvery  lake 
with  a  favoring  breeze.  The  clear  unruffled  water,  studded 
with  innumerable  islets,  stretches  out  to  the  horizon,  reflecting 
the  wooded  isles  and  timber-clad  bluffs  upon  its  margin.  The 
morning  sun,  rising  in  a  sea  of  light,  burnishes  the  motionless 
expanse  with  a  golden  sheen,  and  turns  the  myriad  of  dew- 
drops  upon  the  overhanging  foliage  into  sparkling  diamonds. 

But  there  falls  upon  the  ear  the  rush  and  roar  of  water  ; 
and,  rounding  some  wooded  promontory,  or  pine-clad  island, 
the  canoe  shoots  toward  a  tumbling  mass  of  spray  and  foam, 
studded  with  huge  projecting  rocks  which  mark  a  river  rapid. 


!|lifl!! 


CANOE  LIFE. 


35 


It  is  a  wild  scene  of  wood  and  lock  and  water ;  but  the  voya- 
geurs  advance  upon  it  with  a  calm  assurance.  The  boiling 
rapid  is  nothing  to  them.  All  their  lives  long  they  have  lived 
among  them.  They  have  been  the  playthings  of  their  early 
youth,  the  realities  of  their  middle  life,  the  instinctive  habit  of 
their  old  age.  As  the  canoe  approaches  the  foaming  flood,  ad- 
vantage is  taken  of  the  back  current  created  by  the  mad  rush 
of  the  mid-stream,  and  flowing  backward  close  to  the  banks, 
to  push  the  frail  craft  as  far  up  the  rapid  as  possible.  Then 
the  voyageur  in  the  bow — the  important  seat  in  the  manage- 
ment of  the  canoe — rises  upon  his  knees,  and  closely  scans  the 
wild  scene  before  attempting  the  ascent.  Sinking  down  again, 
he  seizes  the  paddle,  and  pointing  significantly  to  a  certain 
spot  in  the  chaos  of  boiling  waters  before  him,  dashes  into  the 
stream. 

The  rushing  flood  seems  to  bear  the  light  canoe  down  with 
the  speed  of  an  arrow  ;  the  water  boils  and  hisses  to  within  an 
inch  of  the  gunwale  ;  and  to  an  unaccustomed  traveler  it  seems 
folly  to  attempt  the  ascent.  But  the  skilled  canoemen  know 
every  feature  of  the  rapid.  In  the  centre  of  the  boiling  flood 
a  large  black  rock  rises  above  the  surface.  From  its  lower 
side  a  long  eddy  runs,  like  the  tail  of  a  fish,  down  the  stream. 
It  is  just  opposite  this  rock  that  the  canoe  leaves  the  back 
current,  and  toward  it  the  voyageurs  paddle  with  all  their 
might.  Swept  down  bj»  the  force  of  the  stream,  however,  they 
just  reach  the  extreme  point  of  the  eddy  ;  but  a  few  vigorous 
strokes  of  the  paddle  float  the  canoe  quietly  in  the  lee  of  the 
rock.     Here  a  momentary  halt  is  made — just  long  enough  to 


36 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


look  for  another  rock.  The  bowsman  again  selects  one  a  few 
yards  higher  up,  and  a  good  deal  to  one  side.  The  paddles 
are  dipped  once  more,  the  canoe  heads  into  the  torrent  again, 
and  the  sheltering  eddy  of  the  second  rock  is  soon  reached. 
Yard  by  yard  the  rapid  is  thus  ascended,  sometimes  scarcely 
gaining  a  foot  a  minute,  again  advancing  more  rapidly,  until  at 
last  the  light  craft  floats  upon  the  very  lip  of  the  fall,  and  a 
long  smooth  piece  of  water  stretches  away  up  the  stream. 

Frequently  the  ascent  is  not  made  without  mishap.  Some- 
times the  canoe  runs  against  a  stone,  and  tears  a  small  hole  in 
the  bottom.  This  obliges  the  voyageurs  to  put  ashore  imme- 
diately and  repair  the  damage.  They  do  it  swiftly  and  with 
admirable  dexterity.  Into  the  hole  is  fitted  a  piece  of  bark  ; 
the  fibrous  roots  of  the  pine-tree,  called  "watape,"  sew  it  in 
its  place  ;  a  small  fire  is  made  and  pitch  melted,  and  the  place 
plastered  so  as  to  be  effectually  water-tight,  all  within  the  space 
of  an  hour.  Again,  the  current  is  too  strong  to  admit  of  the 
use  of  paddles,  and  recourse  is  had  to  poling,  if  the  stream  be 
shallow,  or  tracking  if  the  depth  of  water  forbid  the  use  of 
poles.  The  latter  is  an  extremely  toilsome  process,  and  would 
detract  much  from  the  romance  of  canoe-life  in  the  wilderness 
were  it  not  for  the  beautiful  scenery  through  which  the  traveler 
passes. 

Rapid  after  rapid  is  surmounted  ;  and  yet,  with  every 
rounding  of  point  and  headland,  rapids  and  falls  arise  in 
seemingly  endless  succession.  Fairy  islets,  covered  to  the 
very  edge  of  the  rippling  water  with  luxuriant  vegetation,  rise 
like  emeralds  from  the  broad  bosom  of  the  river  ;    white- 


CANOE  LIFE. 


37 


winged  birds  sail  about  the  canoes,  or  rise  in  graceful  circles 
into  the  azure  sky,  and  long  lines  of  waterfowl  whirr  past  in 
rapid  flight. 

But  if  the  rushing  or  breasting  up  a  rapid  is  exciting,  the 
operation  of  shooting  them  in  a  birch-bark  canoe  is  doubly  so, 
True,  all  the  perpendicular  falls  have  to  be  "portaged,"  and 
in  a  day's  journey  of  forty  miles,  from  twelve  to  fifteen  port- 
ages have  to  be  made.  But  the  rapids  are  as  smooth  water  to 
the  hardy  voyageurs,  who,  in  anything  less  than  a  perpendicu- 
lar fall,  seldom  lift  the  canoe  from  the  water.  And  it  is  im- 
possible to  find  anything  in  life  which  so  effectually  condenses 
intense  nervous  excitement  into  the  shortest  possible  compass 
of  time  as  does  the  running  of  an  immense  rapid.  No  toil  is 
required,  but  as  much  coolness,  skill,  and  dexterity  as  man  can 
throw  into  the  work  of  hand,  eye,  and  head.  He  must  know 
where  to  strike  and  how  to  do  it  ;  the  position  of  every  rock, 
the  sweep  of  every  drop  of  water,  and  the  combinations  which 
rock  and  water  in  relative  positions  will  assume. 

As  the  frail  birch-bark  nears  the  rapid  from  above,  all  is 
quiet.  One  cannot  see  what  is  going  on  below  the  first  rim 
of  the  rush  ;  but  tiny  spirals  of  spray  and  the  deafening  roar 
of  falling  water  give  a  fair  premonition  of  what  is  to  be  ex- 
■  pected.  The  most  skillful  voyageur  sits  on  his  heels  in  the  bow  of 
the  canoe,  the  next  best  oarsman  similarly  placed  in  the  stern. 
The  hand  of  the  bowsman  becomes  a  living  intelligence  as,  ex- 
tended behind  him,  it  motions  the  steersman  where  to  turn  the 
craft.  The  latter  never  takes  his  eye  off  that  hand  for  an  in- 
stant.    Its  varied  exj^ression  becomes  the  life  of  the  canoe. 


.  -it} 

it! 


■  ,«i  .1 1 


'1 


m 


t 


m 


38 


7W£:  (7A'£/<  r  F(//i  LAND. 


The  bowsman  peers  straight  ahead  with  a  glance  Hke  that 
of  an  eagle.  He  has  got  a  rock  or  splintered  stump  on  shore 
to  steer  by,  and  knows  well  the  only  door  by  which  the  slope 
of  water  can  be  entered.  The  canoe,  seeming  like  a  cockle- 
shell in  its  frailty,  silently  approaches  the  rim  where  the 
waters  disappear  from  view.  On  the  very  edge  of  the  slope 
the  bowsman  suddenly  stands  up,  and  bending  forward  his 
head,  peers  eagerly  down  the  eddying  rush,  then  falls  upon 
his  knees  again.  Without  turning  his  head  for  an  instant,  the 
sentient  hand  behind  him  signals  its  warning  to  the  steers- 
man ;  then  the  canoe  is  in  the  very  rim  ;  she  dips  down  the 
slant,  shooting  her  bow  clear  out  of  water,  and  falling  hard 
and  flat  on  the  lower  incline. 

Now  there  is  no  time  for  thought ;  no  eye  is  quick  enough 
to  take  in  the  rushing  scene.  Here  peers  a  rock  just  above 
the  surface,  there  yawns  a  big  green  cave  of  water ;  here  a 
place  that  looks  smooth-running  for  a  moment,  suddenly 
opens  up  into  great  gurgling  chasms  sucking  down  the  frail 
canoe.  There  are  strange  currents,  unexpected  whirls,  and 
backward  eddies  and  rocks — rocks  rough  and  jagged,  smooth, 
slippery,  and  polished — and  through  all  this  the  canoe  glances 
like  an  arrow,  dips  like  a  wild  bird  down  the  wing  of  the 
storm  ;  now  slanting  with  a  strange  side  motion  from  a  rock, 
as  if  with  an  instinctive  shrinking  from  its  presence  ;  now 
perched  upon  the  very  edge  of  a  green  cavern,  with  one  foot 
almost  in  a  watery  grave,  as  it  were  ;  now  breaking  through  a 
backward  eddy,  as  if  eager  to  run  its  wild  race.  Ofttimes  a 
huge  rock,  time-stained  and  worn,  stands  full  in  the  midst  of 


CANOE  LIFE. 


39 


the  channel,  seeming  to  present  an  obstacle  from  which  escape 
is  impossible.  The  canoe  rushes  full  toward  it,  and  no  human 
power  can  '  from  being  dashed  to  pieces.     Stay  !  there 

is  just  one  power  that  can  do  it,  and  that  is  provided  by  the 
rock  itself.  No  skill  of  man  could  run  the  canoe  on  to  that 
rock  !  The  fierce  current  sjjlits  upon  it,  and  a  wilder  sweep 
of  water  rushes  off  both  its  polished  sides  than  on  to  them. 
The  instant  the  canoe  touches  that  sweep  it  dashes  off  with 
redoubled  speed.  The  jagged  rock  is  a  haven  of  safety  com- 
pared to  the  treacherous  whirlpool  and  twisting  billow. 

All  this  time  not  a  word  is  spoken  ;  but  every  now  and 
again  there  is  a  quick  convulsive  twist  of  the  bow  paddle  to 
edge  far  off  f  ^e  rock,  to  put  her  full  through  some  boiling 
billow,  to  h(  r  steady  down  the  slope  of  some  thundering 

chute.  All  this  is  wild  life  if  you  will ;  but  how  tame  and 
bare  the  simple  narrative  of  these  facts  appears  beside  their 
actual  realization  in  a  north  canoe  manned  by  dusky 
voyageurs  ! 

But  the  old  canoe-life  of  the  Fur  Land  is  rapidly  passing 
away.  The  unpicturesque  Mackinaw  boat  has  usurped  the 
place  of  the  birch-bark  canoe,  and  the  forests  no  longer  echo 
the  refrain  of  the  voyageur's  boat-song.  The  passage  of  three 
or  four  canoes  once  or  twice  a  year  is  all  that  breaks  the 
silence  of  the  scene.  In  many  a  once  well-beaten  pathway, 
nought  save  narrow  trails  over  the  portages,  and  rough 
wooden  crosses  over  the  graves  of  travelers  who  perished  by 
the  way,  remain  to  mark  the  roll  of  the  passing  years. 


ii 


m 


P4 


rnvr ri'.K  m, 


TMr  u.\\,r*»<Rrrn  vovAv^rim/ 


IN  rt  UiVvrrtUvo  ol'  tvavil  tl\\An\nl\  \\w  Ihwhon's  Hay  Vv\v\' 
Xwty  \\\   \$'$%i,h)    l,\>ul  vSiutlhcsk.  is  givon  ll\o  fiillmvinj^ 

"  V  Srou  h\«i\n.  thowjih  with  l\\»<i;\u  hV^^A  on  )\is  motluM't* 
sii*i-  *">o  ^v.^^  lH^n^  iU\\l  b«v\l  i\',  tho  SaskiUnhowan  »o»ti^tr\,  l»U 
*l  .  u\i  Ih\ \\»«o  A  w'sivUMM  of  Vow  K\i\v\\\  i\\u\  cnlovoil  Iho 
c\M^^(v*\\vN  cm^^K^v.  Whothov  as  giuilo  or  hut^tor.  \w  was 
wni\xM"Si»nv  uvkono\!  ono  of  thoii  host  tnon,  lnnnonsrlv 
brwui-oK-stwl  anv\  nwiMular,  thovtgh  \\o[  tall,  ho  \\oigho«i 
tf\Jih^oo1^-s^o«o  :  \-eU  in  spite  of  his  stonttu^ss,  ho  \va>  o\ooo<l- 
»»\^)y  h;uxiy  j\iu\  ;Uti\o,  anvi  a  \vo(>vlorful  hv^sotuan. 

""His  face — soovowhat  .\^syrian  it\  typo — is  very  hand- 
sow^e;  short,  dolioAtc,  rt«pnlinc  nose;  pioroing,  ilark-grey 
«ws :  long,  dark  lm>\vn  hair,  boarvi.  ;\t\d  tmjstaohe ;  small 
white,  regular  tooth  :  skin  tant\o^i  to  ;v  roguhir  bronze  l)y  ex- 
^x^snre  to  the  weather.  Me  was  dressed  in  a  bbio-oloth 
..;/   .  ^hvxxiod  frock-cvxu),  with  brass  buttons,  red-and-l>lack 

*  Th<  term  "  hilf-bwcvi  *  is  appliot!  iiuiiscriwinately  in  the  Fur  Land 
1.^*11  persvvns  hiving  ln»i>*n  bUxvi  in  their  >'tfin!s  and  bears  no  especial 
i-ifcreitce  to  .juaniity.  In  \-«r>-  msny  instances  it  is  difticuU  to  tell  exactly 
v^itere  d»e  h*lf-hi««vi  envU  and  th*  white  man  begins. 


riih  N.utnu/rn  I'oswa/afh'. 


4« 


fliiiiiH'l  wliiil,  whirl)  RJMvt'il  iihd  fni  w/ii«tr (  oiil  ;  liiir'-U'iitlifif 
tiKM'c'rtNihN  Oh  IiIn  I(H'I,  Itldi  k  Itrll  (iiuiiimI  IiU  vvitin!  :  lf(»t(ftcrft 
ol'  litowiMiiid-wltilf  Hlii|t«'(l  liMiiM^  irwido  wuoUmi  nfiirf." 

This  I'll  liin^  of  M)  Kiiy  will  do  duly,  m  nil  csNcnfirtl 
)ioiiUN,  tiN  the  ((iiToct  iMirlniiliirc  of  n  Iihkc  mid  d!«»tin«t  (\m% 
of  |ii'o|ilr  inliidtilin^  tilt'  I'll!  I.ttlid,  ttiiH  o(  nllt'od  over  our 
own  iioiiImiii  ftdtilicr,  finiiiliiitly  known  km  lndf  lM((<d<),  wli/;, 
neither  Intlinn  noi  while,  posHOHH  fill  ili<  <  tidi  of  one  imd 
n  fnir  dcKn'r  of  the  inU'iliKcnrc  of  the  oihci,  I'limilifir  with 
llio  (  iihIoiiih  ol  Itolh  from  infjincy,  Ihi-y  ndopl  initriy  f»f  the 
hnliilH  of  I  ivili/cd  life  ;  lull,  Ihoii^li  cxiNtin^  under  ;in  itii' 
piDvcd  fvlerior,  \Vv  r(Miiiinli<  life,  the  riisloin,  mode  of 
thou^ht,  iind  |jiii|^iiii^e  ol  the  Indiana,  retnin  Ihi'ir  hold  on  the 
ulfeetionH  of  their  deHt  (•iid.'intM  to  mineH'ove  ^ener-if ions. 
Thus  «i  man  wIiohc  umuuI  liinnii;ine  in  Mtiglish,  uu<\  one  who 
NpcakK  l''rcn(h  alone,  are  eiuihled  to  render  themselvcw  rnutii- 
nlly  intelligible  by  ineiinHof  'Ircc,  their  Indian  mother  tonj<ue, 
though  each  Ih  totally  ignorant  of  the  civili/erl  langn.-ige  or- 
dinarily used  by  the  other. 

At  the  beginning  of  the  prewenl  <  enttiry,  when  the  rival 
Canadian  fur  companies,  known  as  the  X.  V,  and  Northwest 
Companies,  were  engaged  in  fierce  competition  with  the  Hud- 
son's Hay  Com))any  fo**  the  possession  of  the  Indian  tr;ide, 
there  sprung  into  existence,  in  the  exigencies  of  this  special 
service,  a  class  of  men  known  as  couri:urs  des  hois,  or  wood- 
runners.  They  were  Trench  colonists,  whose  spirit  of  ad- 
venture, stimulated  by  a  desire  of  gain,  and  love  for  the  free 
roving  Indian  life,  led  them  to  pursue  the  calling  of  trappers 


•^rm 


imi 


ill  I 


wl 


42 


r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


and  traders,  betaking  themselves  to  the  woods  and  hunting- 
grounds  of  Canada,  and  spreading  gradually  over  the  whole 
country  east  from  the  height  of  land  west  of  Lake  Superior. 
As  hunters  and  trappers  they  were  even  more  skillful  than 
their  Indian  teachers.  As  traders  they  were  outfitted  by  the 
Canadian  companies  with  the  necessary  goods  to  barter  with 
the  Indians  for  furs  ;  and,  after  periods  of  absence  extending 
over  twelve  or  fifteen  months,  spent  in  traveling  in  their 
canoes,  would  return  laden  with  furs  of  great  value,  their 
share  of  which  they  regularly  squandered  during  a  short 
residence  in  the  towns  or  cities,  previous  to  embarking  on 
their  next  voyage.  After  the  coalition  of  the  competing  fur 
companies,  in  the  year  1821,  and  their  consequent  loss  of 
employment  as  traders,  these  courcurs  des  bois  gradually 
spread  farther  into  the  interior,  and  penetrated  the  unsettled 
districts  of  Dakota  and  Manitoba,  and  the  nearer  Lake  Supe- 
rior region.  In  place  of  traders,  they  became  more  especially 
hunters  and  trappers,  disposing  of  their  furs  and  produce  at 
the  trading-posts  scattered  throughout  the  country,  and  near 
which  they  invariably  settled.  Rarely  ever  did  they  return 
to  their  native  land.  The  wild  roving  life  in  the  wilderness  had 
too  much  of  excitement  in  it  to  permit  of  a  voluntary  return  to 
the  narrow  limits  of  civilization.  Moreover,  the  wood-runner 
had  taken  to  himself  an  Indian  wife  ;  and  although  the  mar- 
riage ceremony  had  lacked  the  essentials  of  bell,  book,  and 
candle,  yet  he  got  along  pretty  well  with  his  squaw ;  and 
olive  branches,  jabbering  a  very  few  civilized  tongues  and 
a  great  many  heathen  ones,  began  to  multiply  about  him. 


THE  HALF-BREED   VOYAGFUR. 


43 


'1|    I 


s 


o 

Id 
k) 

Ot. 

a 

< 


i'5 

.'1   ^ 

ti 

V 

^^% 

44 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


In  addition  to  hunting  and  trapping,  the  wood-riinners 
became  canoe-men  and  freighters  to  the  trading-companies, 
or  engaged  in  certain  miniature  agricultural  pursuits  tending 
to  increase  their  subsistence.  To  the  half-breed  children — a 
numerous  progeny — of  these  French  and  Indian  parents, 
descended  the  vocation  of  the  father,  and  the  nomadic  instincts 
of  the  mother,  resulting  in  the  production  of  a  civilized  nomad 
who  unites  the  industries  of  both  civilized  and  savage  life. 
To  this  element  may  be  added  a  considerable  number  of  metis, 
the  offspring  of  the  Scotch  and  English  employes  of  the  trad- 
ing corporations,  and  the  half-breeds  of  the  old  regime,  resi- 
dent on  the  Canadian  coasts — for  the  most  part  the  poorest 
representatives  of  their  class.  Scattered  over  the  vast  country 
from  the  Canadas  to  the  Pacific  coast,  and  from  the  Coteau  of 
the  Missouri  to  the  Saskatchewan,  the  half-breed  forms  the 
advance-guard  of  civilization,  ahead  even  of  the  white  pioneer. 
His  paternity  may  be  French,  English,  or  Scotch — his  mater- 
nity Chippewa,  Cree,  or  Sioux  ;  but  his  vocation  will  always 
be  the  same,  until,  by  admixture  of  lighter  or  darker  blood,  he 
becomes  resolved  into  one  of  his  original  elements. 

As  a  rule,  the  French  half-breed — by  far  the  largest  and 
most  representative  class — is  eminently  social  in  disposition, 
and  gregarious  in  his  habits.  As  a  consequence,  he  lives  in 
communities,  more  or  less  miniature,  during  the  winter  months, 
and  trades  and  hunts  in  bands  during  the  summer.  He  enj'-'ys 
company  and  is  loath  to  be  alone.  Like  his  wealthier  white 
brethren,  he  affects  two  annual  residences — a  log-house  for  his 
hibernal  months,  and  a  wigwam  for  the  summer  solstice.     As 


W 


THE  HALF-BREED   VOYAGEUR. 


45 


a  rule,  he  may  be  addressed  at  the-  former.  About  it  he  has 
some  arable  ground,  which  he  cultivates  in  a  feeble  and  uncer- 
tain manner.  He  scratches  the  surface  of  the  ground,  and  ex- 
pects it  to  be  prolific.  Not  being  fond  of  labor,  the  weeds  are 
allowed  to  choke  the  crop,  the  fences  to  fall  into  decay,  and  a 
general  air  of  wreck  to  take  possession  of  his  tiny  farm.  This 
appearance  of  improvidence  becomes  perennial,  not  apparently 
getting  worse  or  better,  but  remaining  at  about  the  same  state 
year  after  year.  The  scanty  crops,  when  gathered  and  stacked 
in  the  open  air,  in  irregular  piles,  contribute  to  the  general 
tumble-down  aspect.  Indian  ponies,  with  their  usual  worn-out 
and  overworked  look,  wander  about  the  premises,  or  stand 
engaged  in  melancholy  retrospection.  About  the  door-yard 
are  a  few  wooden  carts — whose  antecedents  date  back  to  the 
fields  of  Normandy — guiltless  of  iron,  in  a  state  of  greater  or 
less  fracture,  bound  up  with  rawhide,  and  ornamented  with 
rusty  sets  of  harness.  There  may  possibly  be  a  cow  on  the 
premises,  though  not  likely  to  be,  as  she  would  be  killed  and 
eaten  the  first  time  her  improvident  owner  ran  short  of  pro- 
visions. There  are  dogs,  however,  and  in  proportion  as  the 
metis  is  poor,  the  number  of  canines  increases. 

The  dwelling  itself,  except  in  the  mid-winter  months,  pre- 
sents an  appearance  of  decay.  The  plaster  placed  in  the  in- 
terstices of  the  logs  crumbles  under  the  action  of  the  elements, 
and  falls  about  the  foundation  of  the  building  in  muddy  heaps, 
The  thatch  or  clapboards  of  the  roof  are  loosened  in  places, 
and  are  certain  not  to  be  repaired  until  the  next  winter.  In- 
ternally the  house  is  one  single  apartment ;  occasionally,  in 


m  ^ 


(i 


46 


TJ/£  GKEA  T  FUK  LAND. 


the  better  class,  though  rarely,  two  apartments.  The  floor  is 
of  ])lanks  sawed  or  hewed  by  hand  ;  the  ceiling,  if  there  is 
any,  of  the  same  material.  In  one  corner  is  the  only  bed,  a 
narrow  rouch,  painted,  generally,  an  ultra-marine  blue,  or  a 
vivid  sea-green.  An  open  lire-place  occupies  one  end  of  the 
apartment,  with  the  chimney  within  the  walls.  A  table,  one 
or  two  chairs,  a  few  wooden  trunks  or  boxes — doing  duty  with 
this  people  everywhere  as  table,  chair,  clothes-press,  and  cup- 
board— and  a  dresser,  constitute  the  furniture.  About  the 
walls  soinewhere,  more  especially  over  the  bed,  hang  colored 
prints  of  the  Virgin,  the  sacred  heart,  etc.,  together  with  a 
rosary.  It  may  be  that  the  daughter  of  the  house — and  there 
always  is  a  daughter — has  come  under  the  Ii.fluence  of  a  con- 
vent for  a  season,  and  can  read  ;  perhaps  write.  In  that 
event,  there  is  a  copy  of  the  "  Lives  of  the  Saints  "  on  a 
bracket ;  and,  it  may  be,  a  few  periodicals.  For  the  rest,  the 
apartment  is  cheerless  and  uninviting.  It  may  be  clean,  but 
the  chances  are  that  it  is  not.  That  peculiar  aroma,  too,  which 
pervades  all  inhabited  chambers,  here  becomes  often  aggres- 
sive, and,  as  it  were,  wrestles  with  the  visitor  for  the  mastery. 
In  this  apartment  the  family  herd — a  squaw  mother  often, 
and  children  so  numerous  and  dirty  as  to  be  a  wonder  to 
behold.  During  the  day  its  utter  inefficiency  to  adequately 
accommodate  the  numbers  it  shelters  is  partially  concealed, 
from  the  fact  that  they  are  seldom  all  in  at  one  time.  But  on 
the  approach  of  night,  when  the  dusky  brood  are  all  housed, 
the  question  of  where  they  are  to  sleep  becomes  startlingly 
prominent. 


THE  HALF.BRRF.D  VOYAGEUR. 


47 


We  rcnicinbcr  well  our  first  experience  in  the  solution  of 
this  cliiriculty.  Caught  one  stormy  winter's  evening,  on  the 
banks  of  a  northern  river,  without  preparations  for  (;am|)ing, 
our  uncivilized  guide  halted  before  the  door  of  a  small  cabin, 
and  asked  permission  to  remain  over-night.  Hospitality  being 
one  of  the  savage  virtues,  the  request  was  readily  granted. 
After  a  meagre  supper  of  fish  without  salt,  and  a  post-prandial 
smoke,  we  began  to  look  about  for  a  couch  for  the  night. 
Nothing  was  visible  save  one  narrow  bed,  in  which  our 
host  and  his  swarthy  consort  soon  retired.  Now,  in  ad- 
dition to  ourselves  and  guide,  there  were  thirteen  of  the 
family,  composed  of  children,  male  and  female,  from  infancy 
to  mature  age.  Where  were  they  all  to  sleep  ?  We  thought 
of  a  possible  loft ;  but  there  was  no  ceiling.  Finally,  we  were 
about  making  preparations  to  sit  before  the  fire  all  night 
when,  from  trunks  and  boxes  were  produced  blankets  and 
robes,  and  a  shake-down  made  on  the  floor,  into  which  we 
were  directed  to  crawl.  Scarcely  had  we  done  so,  when  our 
bed  began  to  widen,  and  in  a  few  minutes  extended  from  wall 
to  wall.  Soon  we  found  ourselves  the  central  figure  in  a 
closely-packed  bed  of  thirteen,  filled  promiscuously  with  males 
and  females.  We  thought  involuntarily  of  the  great  bed  of 
Ware  and  its  thirty  occupants. 

The  occupations  of  the  half-breed,  when  not  engaged  as 
voyageur  *  or  agriculturist,  are  limited  to  fishing  in  the  stream 


The  term  "voyageur"  as  used  in  the  North,  is  not  necessarily  restricted 
to  boatmen  or  canoe-men,  but  is  also  applied  to  all  persons  connected  with 
the  fur  trade  as  freighters,  guides,  hunters,  trappers,  etc. 


48 


VHt:  CKEAr  FVK  LAXtX 


l« 


wcAx  his  rosivlotuo.  hunting  for  sn\i\ll  giiinr,  ihr  vmv  of  \\\n 
ponies,  ;ni<l  ,\  nnnwl  of  sorial  visits  to  his  lu-ighliors.  The 
two  lovn\or  aro  fv»llo\vovl  only  to  the  eMiMU  of  fiinushing  a 
su)>i>ly  of  fvHul  for  the  «l;iv,  loinorrovv  hcitig  loft  to  lare  for 
itsch\  Iho  iilca  of  ;te»  \un\ili\ting  snpplios  of  provisions  in 
rtdvance,  s,ivo  in  tho  late  fall,  novor  apparently  enters  the 
half-hree«l  minil.  If  he  fails  to  sceurc  snl^icient  game  or  lish 
for  the  ilay's  pt\>vision,  he  simply  goes  without  his  dinner ; 
nor  do  frequent  privatit>tvs  of  this  sort  seem  to  impress  upon 
his  volatile  nund  the  poliey  of  reserving  of  preset\l  exeess  for 
future  Si-anity.  Hut,  should  he  by  stune  fortuitous  <  iretnn- 
strtnee  beeotnc  possessed  o\  a  surplus  oi  salable  provision,  its 
ownership  beeomes  a  eonsunting  llame  to  him  until  disposed 
of.  Th*  idea  of  keeping  any  thing  which  he  (an  sell  is  an 
absuulity  which  his  intellect  cannot  grasp. 

It  is  in  the  winter  season,  when  the  cold  has  put  an  end  to 
their  labors  for  the  most  part,  and  the  cares  of  existence  are 
lightened  by  reason  of  advances  made  them  upon  the  work  of 
the  .ipi>roaehing  season,  or  the  fair  supply  of  provisions  laid 
by  from  the  last,  that  the  social  life  of  the  half-breeds  may  be 
said  to  be  at  its  highest.  It  is  then  that  they  marry  and  are 
given  in  marriage  ;  that  feasting,  dancing,  and  merry-nuikings 
of  all  descriptions,  do  much  abound.  F,very  log-house  then 
echcx's  to  the  violin  of  some  moccasined  and  straight-haired 
Paganini,  who  after  years  of  sedulous  i>ractice  has  attained  a 
certain  ghastly  facility  of  execution. 

It  is  rumored  weekly  that,  at  the  residence  of  Baptiste,  or 
Pascal,  or  Antoine,  there  will  be  given  a  dance,  and  the  rumor 


THE  ttAtrnffKEn  voyaceuk. 


49 


Ih  acrcpU'd  iih  n  ^^cncral  invilntifin,  'I'lic  yoiin^  Imk  kn  of  llie 
npighbdi'hood  jirrny  thcinNflvcH  in  thr  liewilderinK  ftjipftrcl 
which  obtainH  upon  orcaNJoiiH  of  Ihis  nalurr  ;  a  hhic-rloth 
rapotc,  with  brass  liuttons  ;  bhuk  or  drab  f nrcbiroy  troiiBcm, 
the  icHlhi'tic  effect  of  which  Ih  dcKtroyed  by  a  variegated  sa«h, 
with  fringed  ends  pendent  ab(»iit  the  knees  ;  nior  <  asinH,  and  a 
fur  cap  with  gandy  tassel.  The  young  maidens  apparel  thein- 
selves  in  sombre  prints  or  woolen  stuffs,  but  with  bright- 
colored  shawls  about  their  shoulders.  This,  with  a  false  lustre 
ui)on  their  black  locks,  from  t opious  applications  rjf  grease,  is 
all  that  is  shfiwy  about  them.  The  dances  are  reels  and 
Hfiuarc-dances.  When  they  begin,  however,  they  continue  for 
days  at  a  time  ;  the  younger  people  occupying  the  night,  and 
the  older  ones  the  day,  rc[/airing  home  to  rest,  and  (hen  re- 
turning. (Uistom  makes  it  obligatory  ufion  the  entertainers 
to  furnish  food  and  li(pu)r  for  the  dancers,  and  there  is  a  vast 
consumption  of  botli.  It  fre(piently  ha[)pens  that,  fr<;m  the 
numl)er  of  participants,  and  the  long  continuance  of  the 
dance,  the  amount  of  supplies  demanded  reduces  the  host  to 
poverty.  We  have  known  rejieated  instances  where  at  (me 
ball,  continuing  three  or  four  days,  the  entire  winter's  provis- 
ion for  a  family  was  consumed,  and  ponies  were  sold  to  pay 
for  the  liquor.  Yet,  the  improvident  half-breed  thinks  noth- 
ing of  it,  and  gives  the  ball,  well  knowing  the  result.  He 
wants  either  a  feast  or  a  famine.  If  he  .spends  his  substance 
for  others,  however,  he  retaliates  by  haunting  all  the  festivities 
of  his  neighbors  during  the  entire  winter. 

At  home,  when  not  engaged  in  dancing  and  feasting,  or 
3 


50 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


taken  up  with  the  sordid  and  petty  cares  of  his  existence,  the 
half-breed  smokes  and  drinks  tea.  His  consumption  of  tobacco 
is  ceaseless,  and  his  libations  of  tea  would  do  no  discredit  to 
John  Chinaman.  If  he  hires  out  by  the  day  to  labor,  he 
spends  ten  minutes  of  each  hour  in  filling  and  lighting  his 
pipe  ;  if  he  is  voyaging,  he  halts  at  every  headland  or  wooded 
promontory  to  put  his  kettle  on  and  drink  tea.  Of  a  winter's 
day  he  curls  up  by  his  neighbor's  fire,  and  smokes  and  i elates 
his  adventures.  His  life  has  run  in  a  limited  channel,  but  he 
knows  every  point  in  its  course.  Virtues  may  have  abounded 
in  it,  but  cakes  and  ale  have  much  more  abounded.  But  we 
may  learn  from  it  that  many  admirable  things  are  consonant 
with  an  entire  ignorance  of  books. 

When  the  ploughing  is  done  in  the  spring-time,  and  the 
seed  in  the  ground,  the  half-breed  agriculturist  experiences  a 
yearning  for  the  chase,  or  goes  to  fulfill  his  engagement  as 
voyageui .  If  the  former,  the  fractured  wooden  carts  are  bound 
up  with  rawhide  thon;^s,  the  broken-spirited  ponies  coaxed  into 
a  semblance  of  life  and  vigor,  the  dusky  progeny  packed  in 
with  boxes  and  blankets,  the  house  locked  up,  and  the  migra- 
tory family  set  forth  for  the  prairie  or  stream.  With  the  first 
pitching  of  the  wigwam  the  manners  and  customs  of  civilized 
life  cease,  and  the  half-breed  assumes  the  habits  of  a  savage. 
He  hunts  for  the  pot  ;  for  this  spring-time  chase  is  simply  to 
obtain  daily  subsistence  while  his  meagre  crops  mature.  His 
tent  is  encountered  in  the  usual  Indian  haunts — by  the  side  of 
a  stream  or  lake,  or  half  hidden  in  some  timber-bluff  on  the 
prairie.     He  has  become  a  nomad  pure  and  simple.     But, 


THE  HALF-BREED  VOYAGEUR. 


51 


when  the  harvest-time  approaches,  he  returns  again  to  his 
miniature  farm.  In  a  negligent  manner  his  crop  is  gathered 
and  thrashed.  Reserving  barely  sufficient  for  the  winter's 
needs,  the  remainder  is  sold,  and  with  the  proceeds  an  outfit 
for  the  long  fall  hunt  is  purchased.  Perhaps,  if  they  can  be 
obtained  on  credit,  a  few  goods  are  selected  for  trade  with  his 
savage  brethren.  Again,  with  his  family,  he  seeks  the  prairie 
and  stream,  and  hunts  for  his  winter's  food,  trading  betimes 
for  such  furs  as  may  yield  a  profit.  Later  in  the  fall  he  returns 
to  his  winter's  residence,  adds  a  few  repairs  to  its  leaky  roof, 
plasters  up  the  interstices  in  its  log  walls,  and  settles  down  to 
hibernal  monotony  and  the  dance. 

If  the  half-breed  is  a  voya^eur  or  guide,  the  task  of  culti- 
vating the  garden-plot  is  left  to  the  members  of  his  family,  if 
he  have  one,  the  season  of  his  service  being  the  summer  and 
fall  months.  For  the  most  part,  however,  little  or  no  planting 
is  done  by  this  class.  They  rely  for  support  on  a  system  of 
advances,  which  obtains  with  the  trading  corporations  of  the 
wilderness.  Engagements  are  generally  made  in  the  month  of 
December  for  a  certain  trip  or  amount  of  service,  either  boat- 
ing or  land  freighting,  to  be  performed  during  the  ensuing 
season.  A  small  advance  is  made  the  voyageur  at  that  time, 
to  bind  the  bargain,  as  it  were.  When  the  meal  becomes  low 
in  the  measure  and  the  wine  gone  from  the  jar,  he  repairs  to 
his  employers,  and  at  times  receives  small  advances.  If  he  is 
economical — which  he  seldom  or  never  is — these  advances  may 
eke  him  out  a  scanty  subsistence  until  spring  and  labor  arrive. 
The  probabilities  are,  however,  that  he  is  prodigal,  has  his 


52 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


«li 


feast,  and  then  lives,  in  want  and  squalor,  upon  any  refojc 
that  may  come  to  hand.  Nevertheless,  he  accepts  the  situation 
as  a  matter  of  course,  and  is  light-hearted  through  it  all.  At 
the  opening  of  navigation  he  receives  another  advance,  which 
is  quickly  spent ;  then  takes  his  place  on  the  benches  of  an 
inland  boat  or  canoe,  pulls  an  oar  hundreds  of  miles  into  the 
interior,  and  crosses  long  portages  with  the  huge  packages  of 
the  cargo  strapped  to  his  back.  Over  vast  and  trackless  wil- 
dernesses echoes  his  monotonous  boat-song  ;  on  many  a  bleak 
promontory  shine  his  camp-fires ;  and  isolated  posts  waken 
into  life  and  joy  for  one  day  in  the  year  at  his  coming.  His 
journey  made,  and  the  cargoes  exchanged  with  boats  from  yet 
farther  inland,  or  distributed  at  the  numerous  forts  on  the  way, 
the  voyageur  returns  home  again,  receives  the  remnant  of  his 
wages,  to  be  dissipated  in  the  shortest  possible  time  ;  then 
relapses  into  a  condition  of  uncertain  sparring  with  destiny 
for  diurnal  sustenance. 

If  he  be  freighter,  the  life  is  essentially  the  same  :  merely 
exchanging  the  boat  for  the  wooden  carts,  creaking  their  way 
in  long  lines  over  the  plains,  like  a  caravan  in  the  desert.  His 
days  are  spent  in  toil,  his  nights  in  fighting  stinging  insects,  or 
shivering  in  the  cold  and  wet.  But  his  good-nature  never 
tires  ;  his  pipe  is  smoked  in  quiet  satisfaction  under  all  cir- 
cumstances, and  no  occasion  is  too  serious  to  prevent  the  per- 
petration of  his  practical  joke. 

The  tastes  of  the  half-breed  are  of  a  decided  sort,  and 
essentially  like  those  of  other  mixed  races.  In  apparel,  he  is 
fond  of  color,  and,  in  most  instances,  exhibits  good  taste  in 


THE  HALF-BREED  VOYAGEUR. 


53 


the  combinations  he  effects.  Ornaments,  too,  are  held  in  great 
favor,  quality  not  being  so  much  sought  for  as  quantity.  In 
this  regard,  however,  there  is  a  marked  decadence  from  the 
extravagant  ornamentation  of  former  days.  We  remember 
when  the  arrival  of  the  plain-hunters  at  our  border-posts  was 
the  signal  of  a  dress-parade  which,  if  lacking  in  artistic  merit, 
amply  atoned  by  its  rainbow  hues  and  constellations  of  tawdry 
jewelry.  Ofttimes  the  entire  profits  of  a  season's  trade  would 
be  invested  in  highly-colored  wearing-apparel  and  cheap 
jewelry,  in  which  the  hunter  decked  his  tawny  family  and  him- 
self, and  paraded  the  adjoining  camps,  with  all  the  pride  of  a 
Hottentot  chief.  It  was  a  brave  and  pleasant  show,  neverthe- 
less, to  see  these  athletic  men  and  supple  and  graceful  women, 
arrayed  in  holiday  attire,  galloping  swiftly  and  lightly  over 
the  green  prairies.  Unfortunately,  after  this  parade  of  bravery, 
the  demon  of  thirst  would  seize  them,  and,  if  liquor  was 
attainable,  the  rivalry  of  dress  was  succeeded  by  a  rivalry  of 
drink,  ending  in  a  low  debauch  ;  for,  in  his  tastes  and  appe- 
tites, our  half-brother  follows  the  maternal  root. 

The  religion  of  the  half-breed  is  the  creed  of  superstition. 
Roman  Catholic  in  the  main,  he  adds  to  its  formulas  a  shadowy 
belief  in  the  Great  Spirit.  He  acknowledges  a  purgatory,  yet 
fondly  hopes  thnt  in  the  next  world  human  shades  will  hunt 
the  shade  ot  L  n.  ^  and  other  animals  which  have  lived  here. 
W^  lies,  he  '^opes  to  be  carried  to  the  bosom  of  the 

St  .  yet  he  feci  lat  his  shade  will  linger  four  nights  round 
the  pi  'ce  c\  his  decease  ere  taking  its  flight  to  the  village  of 
the  dead.     He  believes  i    sign'^  and  omens  to  some  extent,  and 


m 

t,  lYJi 

i 

«' 
U' 

1 

1 

\ 

54 


T//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


ties  a  certain  number  of  feathers  to  his  horse's  tail,  or  paints 
rude  emblems  on  his  bark  canoe,  to  increase  their  s])eed. 
Nevertheless,  he  yields  implicit  obedience  to  his  priest,  and 
obeys,  in  his  volatile  way,  the  traditions  of  his  Church  ;  but, 
over  all,  cherishes  a  dim  faith  in  the  shades  of  shadow-land. 


it 


THE  HA  LF- BREED   VO  YA  GE  UR. 


55 


p 


l! 


CHATTKR   IV. 

THE  Hudson's  hay  comi'any. 

"P7i)R  more  than  two  cenlmios  Hritisli  North  America  has 
-*-  been  occupied  by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  which  has 
turned  the  country  to  the  best  account  possible  by  utilizing  the 
sole  portion  of  its  wealth  which,  on  account  of  the  barbarous 
nature  of  the  reijion  and  its  almost  imparalleled  completeness 
of  isolation,  could  be  profitably  exported.  This  is  its  furs. 
At  various  periods  attempts  hiive  been  made  to  give  an  im- 
petus to  the  pursuit  of  other  branches  of  industry  by  the 
formation  of  suborainate  companies ;  but,  like  the  dwellings 
of  the  region,  such  institutions  have  hitherto  held  their  exist- 
ence by  a  frail  tenure,  amounting  almost  to  an  artificial  life. 
The  fur-trade  alone  possesses  strong  vitality.  And  although 
this  branch  of  industry,  in  its  relations  to  the  few  small  settle- 
ments of  the  country,  has  been  much  and  most  ignorantly 
abused  by  one-sided  reasoners,  of  late  years,  as  the  all-de- 
vouring monster  which  monopolizes  the  resources  of  the  terri- 
tory, yet  the  fairer  course  would  be  to  describe  it  as  the  motive 
spring  which  gives  life  to  anything  in  the  way  of  business 
existing  there.  Furs  compose  the  only  species  of  merchandise 
in  the  countr>-  the  export  of  which  is  remunerative,  and,  with- 
out them,  even  what  market  exists  for  other  commodities 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  Y  COAfPANV 


57 


would  speedily  disappear.  In  fuel,  the  inlluence  of  the  trade 
permeates  all  (lasses  ;  everybody  talks  fur,  and  every  avail- 
able pusitidti  in  the  accessible  parts  of  the  territory  is  seized 
tipon  l>y  free-traders  for  the  collection  of  peltries,  Hut  while 
many  arc  gathered  in  this  way,  and  traders  speedily  grow 
rich,  (heir  furs  form  scarcely  a  drop  in  the  bucket  when  com- 
pared to  the  vast  collections  of  the  Hudson's  Hay  Company, 
It  is  only  a  vast  corporation,  posscHsed  of  unlimited  means, 
long  experience,  and  immense  facilities  for  transportation, 
that  can  hope  to  comjiete  with  this  last  great  monopoly. 

It  is,  of  course,  to  be  expected  that,  as  the  wave  of  po|)U- 
lation  rolls  westward,  the  agricultural  and  other  latent  re- 
sources possessed  by  the  immense  territory  will  be  developed, 
and  the  fortunes  of  the  dwellers  in  that  remote  region  no 
longer  depend  solely  upon  the  success  of  the  warfare  main- 
tained by  the  Indian  against  the  wild  beasts  of  the  North  ; 
but  it  is  undeniable  that,  until  the  present  decade,  the  trade 
which  from  a  single  department  alone  brings  annually  to  the 
English  market  an  average  value  of  ^150,000  in  furs,  and  in 
the  aggregate  furnishes  the  world  with  three-fourths  of  its  pel- 
tries, has  presented  the  only  means  of  commercially  benefiting 
the  aboriginal  tribes,  or  of  turning  to  profitable  account  the 
inaccessible  regions  over  which  its  operations  extend. 

The  Hudson's  Bay  Company  is  a  wheel  within  a  wheel, 
consisting  of  the  company  proper,  which  furnishes  the  capital 
stock,  and  the  partnership  of  the  Fur  Trade,  which  is  em- 
ployed  to  carry   out   the   actual  workings   of   the  business. 

Under  the  charter,  the  supreme  control  of  its  affairs  is  vested 
3' 


fj 


m 


m 


58 


T//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


I::! 


!ii||l 


MM 


in  a  Board  consisting  of  a  Governor,  Deputy  Governor  and 
Committee  of  five  Directors,  all  annually  chosen  by  the 
stockholders  at  a  meeting  held  each  November  at  the  compa- 
ny's house  in  London.  These  functionaries  delegate  their 
authority  to  an  officer  resident  in  their  American  possessions, 
called  the  Governor-in-chief  of  Rupert's  Land,  who  acts  as 
their  representative.  His  commission  extends  over  all  their 
colonial  possessions,  and  his  tenure  of  office  is  unlimited  as 
regards  time.  Sir  George  Simpson,  the  Arctic  explorer,  in 
company  with  Dease,  was  the  first  person  appointed  to  fill 
this  high  office,  which  was  instituted  immediately  after  the 
coalition  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  and  Northwest  Companies  in 
1 82 1.  Previous  to  that  date  the  various  districts  had  been 
ruled  by  numerous  petty  officers,  subject  to  no  efficient  control, 
and  practically  answerable  to  none  for  abuse  of  povver. 

The  authority  of  the  Governor-in-chief  is  supreme,  except 
during  the  session  of  his  council,  which  is  held  once  a  year, 
and  continues  its  formal  sittings  for  two  or  three  days.  The 
Governor  is  president  or  chairman  of  this  council,  at  which 
he  represents  the  interests  of  the  Board  of  Directors  in  Eng- 
land. It  is  called  the  "  Council  for  the  Northern  Department 
of  Rupert's  Land,"  yet  it  assumes  a  general  authority  over  all 
other  departments,  and,  to  quote  the  words  of  the  preamble  to 
its  official  minutes,  it  convenes  "  for  the  purpose  of  establish- 
ing rules  and  regulations  for  conducting  the  business  of  said 
department,  and  in  order  to  investigate  the  trade  of  the  past 
year." 

As  before  stated,  a  council  for  the  Northern  department 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  V  COMPANY, 


59 


is  held  every  year,  and  at  it  the  Governor-in-chief  is  invaria- 
bly present  ;  but  he,  also,  from  time  to  time,  has  held  coun- 
cils for  other  departments,  though  his  usual  plan  is  to  leave 
the  details  to  be  managed  by  competent  ofificials  on  the  spot, 
and,  by  correspondence,  exercise  a  general  jurisdiction  over  the 
trade.  His  council  is  composed  of  the  highest  rank  of  officers 
in  the  service,  called  Chief  Factors,  whose  duty  and  right  is  to 
sit  at  its  meetings  whenever  their  attendance  is  practicable. 
Members  of  the  second  rank  of  commissioned  officers,  called 
Chief  Traders,  when  they  can  arrange  to  be  present,  are  also 
requested  to  sit  in  the  council,  which  is  held  with  closed  doors, 
and  when  so  invited,  the  traders  are  permitted  to  debate  and 
vote  equally  with  the  factors.  The  chief  factors  and  chief 
traders  together  constitute  the  partnership  in  what  is  called 
the  "  Fur  Trade."  From  this  the  profits  of  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company  may  be  said  to  be  entirely  derived  ;  it  con- 
stitutes the  means  by  which  the  company  avails  itself  of  the 
right  to  trade,  which  it  possesses  in  its  territories.  Vacan- 
cies in  its  ranks  are  immediately  filled  up  as  they  occur 
from  the  death  or  retirement  of  its  members,  the  qualification 
necessary  to  obtain  the  commission  being  a  majority  of  the 
votes  of  all  the  chief  factors.  The  candidates  for  a  factor- 
ship are  necessarily  traders,  while  those  for  a  vacant  trader- 
ship  are  from  the  ranks  of  salaried  clerks,  seldom  of  less  than 
fourteen  years'  standing  in  the  service. 

The  members  of  the  Fur  Trade,  also  called  "  Wintering 
Partners,"  furnish  none  of  the  capital  stock,  and  receive  their 
commissions  merely  as  the  reward  of  long  and  faithful  service. 


I 


I 


I         : 

f  -  .           '  ■■- 
} 

1  ■  ;             \  '■■'■ 

.  1      ■% 

I 


60 


7'HE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


Their  pay  is  a  definite  number  of  shares  of  stock,  never  ex- 
ceeding a  certain  limit.  Of  these,  a  chief  factor  possesses  two, 
and  a  chief  trader  one,  so  that  their  emoluments  are  directly 
affected  by  the  fluctuations  of  the  trade  equally  with  those  of 
other  stockholders.  While  the  Fur  Trade  is  recognized  as  a 
partnership  by  the  company,  yet  it  is  allowed  no  distinct  or- 
ganization. No  annual  election  of  officers  forming  anything 
like  the  company's  London  Board  takes  place  among  the  part- 
ners of  the  Fur  Trade,  who,  scattered  over  the  vast  territories 
of  the  coTtipany,  could  not,  under  existing  circumstances,  take 
united  action  in  any  matter,  how  nearly  soever  it  might  affect 
their  corporate  interests.  The  only  approximation  to  a  com- 
mon action  which  exists  is  afforded  by  the  meeting  of  the 
annual  council,  at  which  all  factors  within  practicable  distance 
are  entitled,  and  traders,  under  similar  circumstances,  invited 
to  attend.  The  partners  in  the  Fur  Trade  are,  moreover, 
allowed  no  representative  at  the  company's  house  in  London. 
An  annual  dispatch,  bearing  the  signatures  of  the  Board,  and 
treating  of  the  different  matters  of  interest  then  pending  in 
connection  with  the  company's  affairs,  is  addressed  each  year 
to  the  council  of  the  Northern  Department,  and  is  answered  by 
its  president.  But  this  constitutes  the  sole  occasion  in  which 
the  company  as  a  body  approaches  the  Fur  Trade  as  a  body  in 
the  whole  course  of  their  business.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
Board  in  London  has  a  special  representative  in  the  Fur  Trade 
in  the  person  of  the  Governor-in-chief.  He  is  president  of  all 
councils  of  officers  held  in  the  country,  and  there  is  no  in- 
stance of  his  being  outvoted  by  any  such  body. 


THE  HUD  JON'S  BA  Y  COMPANY. 


6i 


Under  these  circumstances  it  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered 
at  that  an  occasional  murmur  arises  from  the  partners  in  the 
Fur  Trade,  when  a  series  of  unfortunate  years  has  brought 
them  but  little  remuneration.  Still,  upon  the  whole,  the  rela- 
tions of  the  two  bodies  aie  harmonious,  and  the  wintering 
partner  is  well  paid  for  his  labor.  With  the  exception  of 
personal  clothirg  the  company  furnishes  everything,  even  to 
the  paid  clerk  and  the  men  under  him. 

The  partners  in  the  Fur  Trade  hold  their  rights  as  a  body, 
with  respect  to  the  stockholders  of  the  company,  in  virtue  of 
a  deed-poll,  dated  1834,  under  which  the  commissions  to  in- 
dividuals are  issued.  These  commissions,  held  from  the 
company,  entitle  the  officers  holding  them  to  their  share  in 
the  profits  and  all  the  other  privileges  they  enjoy.* 

The  vast  operations  of  the  company,  extending  over  so 
great  an  extent  of  territory,  with  establishments  remotely  con- 
nected, and  at  times  only  accessible  by  the  accident  of  favor- 
able stages  of  water,  demand  an  army  of  employes,  in  each  of 
whom  the  prosecution  of  its  peculiar  business  necessitates 
certain  well-defined  mental  and  physical  characteristics,  and 
a  rigid  training  in  the  duties  pertaining  to  his  situation.  No 
mere  neophyte  assumes  even  a  minor  command  in  the  com- 
pany's affairs  ;  and  the  fortunate  winner  of  a  higher  station 
must  invariably  be  well  qualified  for  his  place  by  long  identi- 
fication with  its  active  duties  as  well  as  traditions.  Although 
itself  an  entirely  English  corporation,  its  officers  in  the  fur 

*  For  most  of  the  information  contained  in  the  foregoing  pages  of 
this  chapter,  the  author  is  indebted  to  the  valuable  work  on  "  Red  River," 
by  J.  J.  Hargrave,  F.  R.  G.  S. 


T 


i^^HHTiB  If 


iii 


'lii:. 
I" 


iii 


111!'' 

liH"! 


62 


7'//£  (7i^-£//  T'  FUA'  LAND. 


country  arc  nearly  all  natives  of  Scotland  and  the  Orkneys. 
More  than  one  consideration,  probably,  contributed  its 
weight  in  the  selection  of  this  nationality  as  its  working 
representatives,  viz.,  their  proverbial  shrewdness  and  propen- 
sity for  barter  ;  their  generally  vigorous  physique  and  love  of 
adventurous  life  ;  a  steady  perseverance  in  the  attainment  of 
an  end  ;  close  economy,  and  the  giving  and  receiving  of  the 
last  half-penny  in  trade  ;  and,  above  all,  a  certain  Presbyte 
rian  honesty  begotten  of  the  Established  Kirk, 

Successful  applicants  for  place  in  the  company's  service — 
a  service  highly  esteemed  and  much  sought  after  in  "  pla- 
cing," the  youth  of  the  well-to-do  Scotch  boiirgcoisc — are  en- 
listed invariably  at  an  early  age — generally  from  sixteen  to 
eighteen — having  first  pa'ssed  a  rigid  scrutiny  as  regards  educa- 
tional attainments,  moral  character,  and,  above  all,  physical 
build  ;  and  having,  moreover,  tendered  such  letters  of  recom- 
mendation as. could  not  well  fail  of  success.  The  nominal 
term  of  enlistment  is  five  years,  although  the  more  direct  un- 
derstanding is  that  the  applicant  shall  devote  his  life  to  the 
trade — an  event  which  happens  in  nearly  every  instance,  the 
style  of  living  being  calculated  to  unfit  him  for  active  duty  in 
any  other  vocation.  With  the  arrival  of  the  annual  requisi- 
tion for  additional  help  from  the  fur  country,  the  accepted 
applicant  is  notified  to  hold  himself  in  readiness,  and  sails  for 
York  Factory,  on  the  Bay  coast,  by  return  packet.  With  his 
departure  his  salary  begins.  The  magnificent  sum  of  ;^2o 
per  annum  is  his,  together  with  rations,  quarters,  etc.,  and 
personal  clothing  from  the  company's  shops  at  cost  and  ten 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  V  COMPANY. 


63 


per  cent.  As  this  latter  expenditure  is  the  only  one  he  is 
obliged  to  make,  or,  indeed,  can  well  be  tempted  to  indulge 
in,  the  bulk  of  his  yearly  stipend  remains  from  year  to  year  in 
the  hands  of  his  employer  at  compound  interest. 

Arrived  at  York  Factory,  he  is  generally  sent  to  pass  the 
first  five  or  ten  years  of  his  apprenticeship  in  the  extreme 
northern  districts  of  Mackenzie  River  and  Athabaska.  This 
is  done  that  he  may  at  once  be  cut  off  from  anything  having 
a  tendency  to  distract  him  from  his  duties  ;  in  order,  also,  to 
be  drilled  in  the  practical  working  of  the  Indian  trade  ;  and 
because  of  an  established  rule  in  the  service  which  starts  the 
apprentice  at  isolated  posts  in  remote  districts,  bringing  him 
up  finally  in  the  great  depot  forts  on  the  borders  of  civiliza- 
tion, thus  acquainting  him  with  every  duty  pertinent  to  the 
trade.  The  occupations  of  his  first  years  are  those  of  sales- 
man behind  the  counter  in  the  trading-shop,  and  an  occa- 
sional trip  with  the  half-breed  traders  attached  to  the  post  to 
the  various  Indian  cai  s  in  the  vicinity  for  the  barter  of 
good?  for  peltries.  The  cultivation  of  the  Spartan  virtue  of 
truth  also  obtains,  no  misrepresentations  being  permitted  in 
order  to  effect  sales  in  that  service.  In  the  discharge  of  such 
minor  duties  a  few  years  glide  uneventfully  away,  and  the 
next  advancement  brings  him  to  the  accountant's  office. 

Upon  the  assumption  of  this  position  he  passes  in  the  race 
for  promotion  another  class  of  apprentices,  probably  enlisted 
at  the  same  date  as  himself,  known  as  "postmasters."  These 
are  generally  natives  of  the  country,  half-breeds  of  the  better 
class  for  the  most  part,  yet  lacking  the  requisite  education  to 


V. 


Ill' 


m 


G4 


r//£  GKEAT  FUA'  LAND. 


successfully  compete  with  the  Scotch  importations.  They  are 
older  men,  as  a  rule,  and  are  assigned  the  duty  of  superintend- 
ing the  lal)t)ring  men,  of  whom  each  post  has  its  complement, 
and  have,  in  fact,  a  general  supervision  of  the  rougher  details 
of  the  trade  ;  but  are  entitled,  nevertheless,  to  the  title  of  com- 
pany's gentlemen,  as  distinguishing  them  from  the  lower 
order  of  employes  entirely  outside  the  line  of  promotion. 
The  advancement  of  a  postmaster  is  necessarily  slow,  and 
they  seldom  atyiin  a  position  higher  than  that  of  clerk  in 
charge  of  a  small  post,  although  instances  are  on  record  where 
high  place  has  been  reached,  and  filled  with  much  credit  and 
pecun!  iry  profit. 

At  the  accountant's  desk  the  apprentice — now  known  as  a 
clerk — remains  generally  until  fourteen  years  of  service  have 
elapsed,  unless  placed  in  charge  of  a  fort,  other  than  a  depot, 
as  chief  clerk.  During  this  period  he  has  been,  in  most  in- 
stances, gradually  nearing  the  great  forts  forming  the  depots 
of  supplies  and  forwarding,  or  the  headquarters  of  a  district, 
by  a  series  of  transfers  from  the  unimportant  and  remote 
posts  whence  he  started  to  those  still  larger  and  more  con- 
tiguous to  the  desired  centre.  His  salary,  too,  has  increased 
from;^2o  to  ;^ioo.  He  has  lived  entirely  in  the  mess-rooms 
of  the  posts  at  which  he  resided  ;  his  associations  have  been 
with  his  elders  and  superiors  in  the  ranks  of  the  service  ;  his 
conversation  for  years  has  been  for  the  most  part  upon  sub- 
jects relative  to  the  trade  ;  its  traditions  have  become  familiar 
to  him,  its  routine  almost  a  second  nature  ;  his  habits  of  life 
are  fixed,  and  sit  so  easily  upon  him  as  to  suggest  no  desire 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  Y  COMPANY. 


6$ 


for  change  ;  in  short,  he  has  fallen  so  completely  into  the 
groove,  become  so  much  a  part  of  the  machinery  of  the  trade, 
and  so  totally  unacquainted  with  the  requirements  of  any 
other  business,  as  to  render  a  change  both  imj^olitic  and  im- 
possible. His  ambition  points  but  one  way — to  a  higher  rank 
in  the  service  he  has  chosen.  He  pictures  to  himself,  doubt- 
less, in  a  vague  and  misty  way,  a  certain  far-off  day  when, 
with  the  accumulations  of  years,  he  will  return  to  the  world  ; 
never  thinking  that  the  world  he  will  find  will  prove  so 
strange  and  bizarre  that  a  cursory  glance  will  frighten  him 
back  to  his  solitudes  again. 

At  the  expiration  of  fourteen  years  of  service,  if  a  vacancy 
occur,  the  clerk  steps  from  the  ranks  of  salaried  employ(Js  into 
the  partnership  of  the  Fur  Trade,  and  assumes  the  title  of  chief 
trader.  Upon  the  assumption  of  this  dignity,  in  place  of  a 
yearly  stipend,  his  emoluments  take  the  form  of  "X pro  rata  of 
the  annual  profits  of  the  trade,  and  he  is  appointed  to  the 
command  of  some  important  post.  Here  his  duties  are  a  gen- 
eral oversight  of  the  business  immediately  connected  with  the 
establishment  and  vicinity.  The  thorough  practical  knowledge 
of  all  the  petty  details  of  the  business,  acquired  in  the  years 
of  his  previous  service,  enable  him  to  judge  of  their  correct 
performance  by  those  now  under  him.  He  has  now,  also,  an 
opportunity  of  devising  new  methods  of  increasing  the  trade, 
of  developing  pet  projects  previously  conceived,  and  of  adding 
proportionately  to  his  own  share  of  profit.  The  field  opened 
before  him  is  sufficiently  wide  for  the  employment  of  all  his 
energies,  and  the  desire  to  rival  his  compeers  is  necessarily 


m 


06 


.  r//£  GKEA  T  FUR  LAND. 


strong.  H<'  still  retains  in  his  new  position  the  usual  allow- 
am  1.  s  of  food,  quarters,  etc.,  from  the  ( onii)any,  as  in  the  days 
of  his  clerkship  ;  but  the  feeling  that  his  pecuniary  emolu- 
ments in  n  measure  depend  U|)on  his  own  energies,  adds  new 
life  and  vigor  to  his  movements.  He  becomes  alert,  restless, 
active,  and  indulges  in  much  speculation  relative  to  the  in- 
crease of  trade,  until  death  or  retirement  opens  the  way  for 
entrance  into  the  ranks  of  chief  factors — the  highest  class  of 
otticials  known  to  the  service. 

In  the  exercise  of  the  functions  of  this  oflice  he  assumes 
control  of  a  district — in  many  instances  as  large  as  a  European 
kingdom — with  headquarters  at  the  largest  fort  within  its  limits, 
and  a  general  supervision  over  all  other  posts.  He  directs  the 
course  of  trade,  erects  new  establishments,  orders  the  necessary 
outfits  for  the  year,  suggests  needed  reforms  to  the  council, 
and  in  his  capacity  as  chief  magistrate  of  his  principality, 
rules  supreme.  He  has  attained  the  summit  of  the  ladder,  with 
the  exception  perhaps  of  governorship,  and  can  rest  secure. 
The  accumulations  of  many  years,  which  he  has  had  little  op- 
portunity of  spending,  have  by  this  time  placed  him  beyond 
the  reach  of  pecuniary  care,  and  he  finally  resigns  upon  half 
l)ay,  to  visit  the  scenes  of  his  youth  for  a  season,  then  to  return 
and  pass  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  the  far  settlements  of 
the  isolated  country  where  his  life  has  been  spent. 

As  a  man,  the  wintering  partner  is  eminently  social,  and 
given  to  a  generous  hospitality.  His  years  of  isolation  have 
only  served  to  render  him  the  more  gregarious  when  opportu- 
nity presents.     He  throws  his  doors  open  to  the  congenial 


TlfE   HUDSON'S  BA  Y  COMPANY. 


^7 


id 
lal 


\ 


stranger,  setting  apart  a  room  for  his  use,  or<lcring  an  addi- 
tional cover  at  table,  giving  instructions  to  the  groom  relative 
to  the  fri-e  use  of  the  favorite  cob  by  his  temporary  guest,  and 
considering  all  the  honor  as  done  to  himself.  Physically  ro- 
bust, he  delights  in  athletic  sports,  in  pedestrian  excursions, 
in  boating,  in  equestrian  feats,  and,  when  occasion  jjresents,  in 
prolcjnged  convivialities  with  his  old  associates.  As  a  family 
man,  he  is  exemplary.  It  has  happened  that,  rendered  lone- 
some by  his  isolated  position  and  cut  off  from  society,  in  the 
days  of  his  clerkship  he  has  petitioned  the  (Jovernor  for  the 
privilege  of  marriage  ;  and,  gaining  consent,  has  taken  to  wife 
a  daughter  of  the  land.  If  matrimonial  desire  has  overtaken 
him  further  on,  however,  and  when  more  advanced  in  rank  and 
means,  he  has  probably  ordered  a  wife  from  the  Hou.se  in  Lon- 
don, and  having  received  her  by  return  packet,  married  out  of 
hand.  And  to  the  credit  of  the  wintering  partner  be  it  said, 
that  he  generally  becomes  a  model  Benedict,  although,  in  some 
instances,  had  he  been  personally  present,  his  selection  would 
have  been  different.  We  recall  a  case  of  this  kind,  where  the 
party  having  received  and  married  his  wife,  receipted  to  the 
House  for  her  something  in  this  style  :  "  Received  one  wife  in 
fair  condition.  Hojie  she  will  prove  good,  though  she  is  cer- 
tainly a  very  rum  one  to  look  at  !  " 

Generally  speaking,  Manitoba  is  selected  as  a  place  of  resi- 
dence by  servants  of  the  company  who  have  passed  their  lives 
in  the  service.  Many  of  the  officers,  whose  desire  to  return 
to  their  native  country  has  withered  through  lapse  of  time  and 
the  influence  of  family  ties  formed  in  the  country,  have  bought 


■'\ 


m 


68 


r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAXD, 


land  and  settled  down  on  it  for  life,  forming  ;nuong  themselves 
the  aristocracy  of  the  wilderness.  Owning  the  handsomest 
residences  in  the  province,  social  by  nature.,  and  su|)|)lied  with 
abundant  means,  they  are  given  to  a  generous  hospitality. 
The  latch-string  is  always  out  to  the  stranger,  and  they  delight 
in  meeting  upon  eath  other's  hearthstones  and  recounting  the 
wild  life  of  the  past. 

Such  are  the  relations  of  master  and  man  in  the  comjiany's 
service,  and  the  routine  order  of  advancement  which  ol)tains 
in  every  instance.  And  had  the  territories  of  the  company 
continue*',  as  isolated  and  inaccessible  as  they  have  been 
hitherto  regarded.,  tin  re  is  no  reason  to  doubt  that  the  statu 
quo  of  employed  and  employer  wovdil  have  remained  un- 
changed till  the  end  of  the  chapter.  It  has  happened,  how- 
ever, that  the  transfer  of  the  country  to  Canada,  at  the  begin- 
ning of  the  present  decade,  has  attracted  a  considerable  tide 
of  immigration  to  the  new  Province  of  Manitoba,  and  on  up 
the  fertile  belt  of  the  Saskatchewan.  And  while  the  northern 
part  of  North  America  is  still  as  much  in  the  possession  of  the 
company  as  ever,  yet  the  rapid  settlement  and  development  of 
the  southern  borders  of  the  territory,  and  the  consequent  oppor- 
Vinities  for  speculation  and  high  wages,  have  served  to  dissi- 
pate the  quiet  content  of  the  company's  officers.  Within  the 
last  decade  some  of  them  have  left  the  service  and  engaged 
with  free  fur-trading  firms,  prosecuting  business  in  opposition 
to  the  company,  or  have  carried  on  the  fur-trade  on  their 
own  account.  Especially  has  this  been  the  case  with  the 
salaried  clerks,  upon  whom  the  company  rely  to   fill  the 


n 


THE  I/[7DS0A"S  BA  V  COMPANY. 


69 


vacancies  in  the  Fur  Trade.  Tiie  factors  and  traders  still  re- 
tain their  positions  from  the  fact  of  receiving  their  pay  from 
the  profits  of  the  whole  trade,  which,  in  the  aggregate,  make 
up  a  higher  salary  than  they  could  iiope  to  obtain  elsewhere. 
The  average  income  of  the  two  ranks  of  officers  in  the  Kur 
Trade  is,  for  a  trader  $2,500,  and  for  a  factor  $5,000,  always 
including  in  addition  the  su])port  of  himself  and  family. 
Place  this  sum  at  compound  interest  annually,  and  the  rapid- 
ity with  which  it  accumulates  will  be  readily  seen.  Half  pay 
is  only  given  for  a  term  of  five  years  after  leaving  the  service. 

With  the  clerk  of  five  or  ten  years'  standing,  however,  it  is 
different.  He  could  expect  for  years  only  a  nominal  annual 
salary,  the  ecjual  of  which  he  can  command  for  one  or  two 
months'  labor  under  the  new  order  of  things,  if  once  free 
from  the  service.  His  prospects  of  accumulating  a  com- 
petency for  the  future,  outside  the  ranks  of  the  company, 
though  not  so  absolutely  certain  as  within,  are  yet  sufficiently 
promising  ;  so  he  leaves.  Under  this  condition  0''  things, 
the  company  find  themselves  driven  to  alter,  in  some  measure, 
their  time-honored  programme,  and  increas*'  the  annual  sti- 
pends of  clerks  and  apprentices  to  a  nearer  approximation 
with  salaries  j)aid  that  class  in  civilized  'ifc  CJlerks  who  have 
'withdrawn  from  the  service  are  invited  to  return  under  new 
rates,  the  regu'  .r  liiie  of  promotion  being  preserved  as  before. 

The  extent  of  territory  over  which  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany carries  on  its  trade,  and  throughout  which  depots  and 
forts  are  established,  is  very  ^''eat.  As  the  crow  flies,  the 
distance  between  Fort  Vancouver,  on  the  Oregon,  and   Fort 


m 
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70 


r//-£  CA-i^:/^  7'  /V  'y?  LAND. 


Confidence,  on  Bear  Lake,  exceeds  1350  geographical  miles, 
and  the  space  between  the  company's  posts  on  the  Labrador 
coast,  or  their  station  at  Sault  Ste.  Marie,  and  Fort  Simpson, 
on  the  Pacific,  measures  more  than  2500  miles.  The  area  of 
country  under  its  immediate  influence  is  about  four  and  a  half 
million  square  miles,  or  more  than  one-third  greater  than  the 
whole  extent  of  Kurope.  This  vast  hunting  country  is  every- 
where sprinkled  over  with  lakes,  and  in  all  directions  inter- 
sected by  rivers  and  lesser  streams,  abounding  with  edible 
fish.  East  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  are  vast  prairies  over 
which  roams  the  bison,  lord  of  the  plains  ;  while  west  of  these 
mountains  the  land  in  densely  tit.  bereU.  The  most  northerly 
station,  east  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  is  on  the  Mackenzie 
River,  within  the  Arctic  circle  ;  so  terribly  intense  is  the  cold 
at  this  point  that  axes  tempered  specially  can  alone  be  used 
for  cutting  and  splitting  wood,  ordinary  hatchets  breaking  as 
though  made  of  glass.  West  of  the  Rockies,  the  most  north- 
ernly  station  is  Fort  Simp.son,  situated  near  the  Sitka  River, 
the  boundary  between  Alaska  and  British  Columbia. 
Throughout  this  vast  extent  of  territory,  a  regular  com- 
munication is  kept  up  between  the  Governor  and  the  numer- 
ous scattered  posts,  and  supplies  are  forwarded  to  all  the  dis- 
tricts with  a  regularity  and  exactness  truly  wonderful. 

The  chartered  territories  and  circuit  of  commercial  rela- 
tions of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  are  divided  into  vast  sec- 
tions, named  the  Northern,  Southern,  Montreal  and  Western 
departments.  Of  these  the  Northern  department  is  situated 
between  Hudson's  Bay  and  the  Rocky  Mountains  ;  the  South- 


Tin-:  HUDSON'S  BA  Y  COMPANY. 


71 


ern,  between  J-inies'  Bay  and  Canada,  comprehending,  also, 
East  Main,  on  the  eastern  v:oas(  of  Hudson's  Bay.  The  Mon- 
treal department  (■oni])rehen(ls  the  extent  of  the  business  in 
the  Canadas,  while  the  Western  comprises  the  regions  west 
from  the  Rocky  Mountains,  '['he  depots  to  which  supplies 
frf)m  the  civilized  world  are  periodically  sent,  and  which  form 
the  keys  of  these  various  sections,  are  York  Factory,  in  the 
Northern  department  ;  Moose  Factory,  in  the  Southern  ;  Mon- 
treal, in  the  Canadas,  and  Victoria,  Vancouver's  Island,  in  the 
West.  In  the  Northern  department,  which  includes  the  grand 
bulk  of  the  chartered  territo.ies,  in  which  alone,  until  recently, 
the  burden  of  government  fell  upon  the  company,  the  most 
important  interests  of  the  business  are  concentrated.  Its  vast 
extent  necessitates  .  '  pot  for  the  "  inland  districts,"  which 
exists  at  Norway  House,  on  Lake  Winnipeg  ;  and  many  causes 
have  combined  to  render  Fort  Garry,  in  which  are  stored  the 
goods  passing  over  the  United  States  route,  the  centre  of 
business,  and  a  large  depot  for  the  "  plain  districts."  It  is  also 
the  residence  of  the  Governor-in-chief,  and  the  headquarters 
of  the  civil  service  of  the  company,  while  York  Factory,  on 
Hudson's  Bay,  is  the  headquarters  of  the  accountants' depart- 
ment. 

These  four  departments  are  again  divided  into  smaller  por- 
tions called  districts,  of  which  there  are  fifty-three,  and  each 
of  which  is  under  the  direction  of  a  siq:)erintending  ofificer. 
These  again  are  sub-divided  into  one  hundred  and  fifty-two 
minor  establishments,  forts,  posts,  and  outposts.  There  is 
connected  witli  each  district  a  depot  to  which  all  the  supplies 


72 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


\    t! 


Si  I 


:fi.. 
ii; ! 


•il 


for  the  district  are  forwarded  periodically,  and  to  which  all  the 
furs  and  produce  from  the  forts  are  sent  to  be  shipped  to 
England.  Some  of  the  dej)ot  forts  have  a  complement  of 
thirty  or  forty  men,  mechani.':s,  laborers,  servants,  etc.;  but 
most  of  them  have  only  ten,  five,  four,  or  even  two,  besides  the 
superintending  officer.  As  in  most  instances  a  space  of  forest 
or  plain,  varying  from  fifty  to  three  hundred  miles  in  length, 
intervenes  between  each  of  these  establishments,  and  the  in- 
habitants have  only  the  society  of  each  other,  some  idea  may 
be  formed  of  the  solitary  lives  led  by  many  of  the  company's 
servants.  But  every  man  knows  his  place  and  his  work ;  the 
laws  regulating  their  duties  are  clearly  defined  and  well  under- 
stood, and  are  enforced  with  a  strictness  and  rigor  truly  mili- 
tary or  naval.  Hence  the  harmonious  working  of  the  whole 
extensive  and  complicated  machinery,  and  the  wonderful 
financial  results  of  its  operation.-. 

The  term  fort,  as  applied  to  the  trading-posts  of  the  Fur 
Land,  is  strictly  applicable  to  but  two ;  most  of  them  do  not 
merit  the  name.  The  only  two  in  the  cou'nrv  ♦hat,  are  real, 
bona-fide  forts,  are  Upper  and  Lower  Fort  Garry,  in  the 
Province  of  Manitoba.  The  others  are  merely  half-a-dozen 
frame  buildings  defended  by  wooden  pickets  or  stockades; 
and  a  few,  wh^re  the  Indians  are  quiet  and  harmless,  are  en- 
tirely destitute  of  defence  of  any  kind.  Upper  Fort  Garry, 
as  the  residence  of  the  Governor,  and  the  central  post  of 
the  Northern  department,  may  be  considered  the  most  im- 
portant fort  of  the  company.  Its  business  consists  of  trading 
goods  for  cash,  furs,  or  country  produce  ;  of  forwarding  the 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  V  COMPANY. 


7i 


supplies  for  certain  large  districts  to  their  destination  in  the 
interior,  and  of  banking  and  transacting  a  variety  of  business 
with  the  inhabitants  of  the  settlement  round  about.  The 
means  by  which  these  affairs  are  carried  on  consist  of  a  bonded 
warehouse,  a  sale-shop,  a  general  office,  and  sundry  stores  for 
pemmican  and  other  articles  of  a  special  nature.  Each  of 
these  departments  is  furnished  with  its  staff  of  clerks,  ware- 
house-men and  laborers. 

Lower  Fort  Garry,  more  commonly  called  the  Stone 
Fort,  in  allusion  to  the  material  of  which  its  houses  are 
constructed,  is  perhaps  a  better  sample  of  the  larger 
posts  of  the  company  than  any  within  the  ordinary  range 
of  travel.  It  is  situated  on  the  west  bank  of  the  Red 
River  of  the  North,  about  twenty  miles  from  the  foot  of 
Lake  Winnipeg.  The  banks  in  this  locality  are  very  high, 
and,  in  consequence,  the  fort  is  favorably  situated  for  the 
avoidance  of  floods  during  periods  of  inundation,  by  no 
means  of  infrequent  occurrence.  The  business  of  the  estab- 
lishment, which  is  one  of  the  subordinate  posts  of  the  Red 
River  district,  consists  of  farming,  retail  dealing,  and  boat- 
freighting.  At  this  post,  during  the  summer  months,  boat- 
brigades  are  outfitted  for  the  trip  to  York  Factory  and  other 
posts  inland.  The  buildings  consist  of  officers'  and  servants* 
dwellings,  shops  and  stores.  These  are  all  inclosed  within  a 
stone  wall,  embracing  an  area  of  about  one  and  a  half  acre, 
and  pierced  through  its  entire  circuit  with  a  tier  of  loop- 
holes. 

Entering  through  the  huge  gateway  pierced  in  the  centre 
4 


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V4\ 


74 


T//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


of  the  east  wall,  facing  the  river,  the  first  view  is  of  the  res- 
idence of  the  chief  trader  in  command,  and  also  of  the 
clerks  and  upper  class  of  employes  under  his  charge.  It  is  a 
long  two-story  stone  building,  with  a  broad  piazza  encircling 
it  on  three  sides.  A  square  plot  of  green  sward  surrounding 
it  is  fenced  in  with  neat  railing,  and  kept  in  extremely  good 
order.  A  broad  gravel  walk  leads  from  the  gateway  to  the 
piazza.  Huge  shade  trees  border  it,  and  beds  of  waving  and 
fragrant  flowers  load  the  business  air  with  their  perfume.  In 
this  building  the  mess  of  the  chief  and  his  subordinates  is 
held.  Its  hospitalities  are  extended  in  good  old  English 
style.  A  room  is  set  apart  for  the  use  of  the  transient  guest, 
who  is  free  to  come  and  go  as  he  lists. 

With  the  exception  of  the  residence  of  the  chief  trader 
in  charge,  the  buildings  of  the  fort  follow  the  course  of  the 
walls,  and,  facing  inward,  form  a  hollow  square.  Following 
this  order,  immediately  at  the  left  of  the  gateway  is  the  trad- 
ing-stoie,  dev  ■;  .d  solely  to  the  sale  of  goods.  A  large  stone 
structure  of  three  stories,  it  has  vnthin  its  walls  nearly  every 
article  us.d  in  that  climate.  The  sales-room  is  a  square 
apartment,  with  no  attempt  at  ornament,  no  plaster,  the  ceil- 
ing merely  the  joists  and  flooring  of  the  second  flat,  thickly 
studded  with  nails  and  hooks,  from  which  are  suspended 
various  articles  of  trade.  Along  the  side  walls  are  box 
shelves,  nearly  two  feet  deep.  On  the  floor  within  the 
counter  are  piled  bales  of  goods,  bundles  of  prints,  hardware, 
etc. ;  and  this  space  within  the  counter  comprises  almost  the 
entire  room.     A  small  area  is  railed  off  near  the  door,  sufii- 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  Y  COMPANY. 


75 


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76 


T//£  CJiEA  T  FUR  LAND, 


ciently  large  to  hold  twenty  standing  customers.  When  this 
is  filled,  the  remaining  patrons  must  await  their  turn  in  the 
courtyard;  and  it  is  not  at  all  an  unusual  sight  to  see  from 
fifty  to  one  hundred  people  standing  quietly  about  outside 
until  their  time  comes  to  be  served.  The  best  goods  of  all 
manufactures  alone  are  sold  here.  No  shoddy  or  inferior 
goods  are  ever  imported  or  sold  by  the  company.  Every- 
thing is  purchased  direct  from  producers,  and  of  a  stipulated 
(luality.  The  principal  articles  of  trade  are  tea,  sugar,  calico, 
blankets,  ammunition,  fishing-gear,  and  a  kind  of  cloth,  very 
thick  and  resembling  blanketing,  called  dufile.  Coffee  is 
rarely  sold,  and  green  tea  is  almost  unknown,  the  black  only 
being  used.  Raw  spirits  are  sold  to  a  large  extent  in  the 
posts  immediately  contiguous  to  settlements.  In  former 
times  the  sale  of  this  latter  article  was  permitted  only  upon 
two  days  of  the  year.  On  Christmas  and  the  Queen's  birth- 
day each  head  of  a  family  was  permitted  to  purchase  from 
the  stores  of  the  company,  upon  an  order  countersigned  by 
the  Governor,  one  pint  of  spirits.  In  the  event  of  spirits 
beirg  required  for  medicinal  purposes,  the  signature  of  both 
Governor  and  attending  physician  were  necessary. 

Amidst  this  stock  of  merchandise,  composed  in  so  great 
a  part  of  staple  articles,  may  be  found,  nevertheless,  an  as- 
sortment of  dress  goods  ^nd  gewgaws  over  a  century  old — 
old-time  ruffs,  stomachers,  caps  and  whatnot;  garments  of 
antique  cut  and  trim,  articles  of  vertu,  and  apparel  long  since 
out  of  vogue  are  mixed  up  in  a  heterogeneous  mass.  What 
a  day  of  delights  and  surprises  would  it  prove  to  the  ladies 


m 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  V  C  KMPANY. 


77 


of  the  present  age  lo  toss  and  tumble  all  that  collection  of 
decayed  finery !  Yet,  doubtless,  much  would  be  found  (fpro- 
pos  to  the  reigning  fashions  ;  for  here,  too,  may  be  purchased 
the  latest  styles  of  wear  upon  Cheapside  and  Regent's  Park 
— kid  gloves  at  fabulously  low  prices ;  made-up  silks,  Paris- 
ian bonnets,  delicate  foot  gear,  etc.,  with  near  neighbors  of 
huge  iron  pots,  copper  cauldrons,  and  iron  implements  of 
grim  aspect  and  indefinite  weight,  together  with  ships'  cordage, 
oakum,  pitch,  and  other  marine  necessities.  Over  this  dis- 
pensary of  needfuls  and  luxuries  presides  an  accountant  and 
two  clerks,  none  of  them  gotten  up  in  the  elaborate  costumes 
of  the  counter-waiters  of  civilization,  but  rather  affecting 
buckskin  coats,  corduroy  trousers,  and  the  loudest  styles  of 
flannel  shirts.  Here  all  the  multitudinous  accounts  of  the 
fort  are  kept,  a  statement  forwarded  quarterly  to  the  chief 
post  of  the  district,  and  from  thence  sent  to  the  company's 
great  house  in  Fenchurch  street,  London. 

In  the  store  there  is  no  such  thing  known  as  exhibiting 
goods  with  a  view  of  increasing  the  purchases  of  a  probable 
customer.  Whatever  is  asked  for  is  produced,  and,  being 
paid  for,  the  customer  is  ignored  at  once  ;  his  room  is  evidently 
better  than  his  company.  There  is,  however,  no  need  to  urge 
the  majority  of  its  patrons  to  purchase.  The  nomadic  half- 
breed  or  Indian  brings  his  money,  or  whatever  he  may  have 
to  exchange,  wrapped  carefully  in  a  handkerchief,  places  it 
upon  the  counter  and  begins  to  trade.  First,  he  purchases 
what  he  absolutely  needs ;  then,  whatever  he  sees — candy, 
chewing-gum,  fancy  ties — in  short,  anything  that  tastes  sweet 


1 

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78 


T//£  GREA  T  fUR  LAND. 


or  looks  flashy.  When  all  is  spent,  to  the  last  halt-penny,  he 
trudges  off  with  his  happy  wife — his  invariable  companion 
when  shopping — quite  contentedly,  although  probably  in 
doubt  where  his  next  meal  is  to  come  from.* 

The  currency  with  which  business  was  transacted,  until 
quite  recently,  consisted  chiefly  of  promissory  notes,  issued 
by  the  company,  redeemable  by  bills  of  exchange  granted  at 
sixty  days'  sight  on  the  Governor,  Deputy  Governor  and 
Committee  in  London.  The  notes  were,  however,  readily  re- 
deemed in  coin  at  Fort  Garry,  without  deduction  for  dis- 
count, whenever  presented  ;  and  being  more  easily  carried 
than  coin,  bore  a  corresponding  value  in  the  eyes  of  the  in- 
habitants of  the  territory.  It  is  reported  that  General  Pope, 
when  resident  on  duty  as  an  officer  of  engineers,  many  years 
ago,  at  Pembina,  having  observed  the  preference  evinced  by 
the  settlers  for  the  company's  notes,  more  than  for  American 
gold,  actually  instanced  it  to  the  Government  as  a  symptom 
of  the  degraded  state  of  ignorance  in  which  the  unhappy 
colonists  were  kept  by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  The 
notes  are  about  the  size  of  a  half-sheet  of  letter  paper,  and 
are  of  three  denominations — one  pound  sterling,  five  shillings 
sterling  and  one  shilling  sterling.  Besides  these,  liowever, 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  English  and  American  gold  and  silver 
coin  in  circulation  in  the  country. 

Leaving  the  trading-store,  a  succession  of  warehouses 
containing  stores  and  supplies,  is  next  encountered.     The  last 

*  The  aspect  of  Lower  Fort  Garry,  as  well  as  the  character  of  the 
business  trnnsacted  there,  has  undergone  considerable  modification  within 
the  last  decade. 


THE  HUDSON'S  BAY  COMPANY. 


79 


and  most  massive  building,  near  the  gateway,  is  the  ware- 
house of  packages  destined  for  posts  inland.  These  are  goods 
imported  from  England  and  other  countries,  and  to  be  used 
in  the  fur-trade  exclusively.  In  this  vast  bulk  of  merchan- 
dise there  is  not  a  single  package  of  over  one  hundred  pounds 
weight.  The  greater  portion  weigh  but  eighty  or  ninety 
pounds,  strongly  packed,  the  cases  lined  with  zinc  and  bound 
with  iron.  The  packages  are  of  this  limited  weight  from  the 
necessity  of  "  portaging  "  them  from  river  to  river,  sometimes 
a  long  distance,  upon  the  shoulders  of  boatmen  ;  and  they 
must  be  strong  in  order  to  insure  safe  transport  over  a  thou- 
sand or  more  miles  of  rough  travel.  Twice  annually  this 
warehouse  is  emptied  by  the  departure  of  the  boat-brigades 
for  the  interior,  and  as  often  replenished  by  shipment  from 
England.  Summer  is  the  busy  season,  as  then  all  the  freight- 
ing is  carried  on,  and  the  accounts  for  the  year  closed.  It  is 
also  a  time  of  much  bustle,  created  by  the  constant  arrivals 
and  departures  which  take  place  at  so  central  a  point  as  Fort 
Garry,  in  a  country  where  locomotion  may  be  called  the  nor- 
mal condition  of  the  majority  of  the  people  during  the  sum- 
mer months. 

The  wall  surrounding  the  fort  is  about  twelve  feet  high, 
and  flanked  by  two-story  bastions  or  turrets  at  each  corner. 
In  the  centre  of  the  inclosure  rises  an  immense  double  flag- 
staff, bearing  the  flag  of  the  company,  with  its  strange  design, 
and  still  stranger  motto,  "'' Pro  pelle  cutem" — skin  for  skin. 
Near  by  stands  the  bell  tower,  at  the  signal  of  whose  tones 
work  begins  and  ends.     When  it  announces  the  dinner  hour 


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the  trading-store  is  closed,  and  the  customers  are  turned  out 
to  await  the  return  of  the  clerks. 

Outside  the  walls  of  the  fort,  but  belonging  tO  it,  is  situ- 
ated a  miniature  village  of  many  and  varied  industries.  In 
neat  dwellings  reside  the  heads  of  the  different  departments 
of  what  may  be  termed  the  outdoor  business  of  the  company. 
Here  dwells  the  chief  engineer  of  all  the  steam  power  in  use 
upon  its  ships,  boats,  mills,  etc.  Here  also  lives  the  farmer 
who  directs  the  cultivation  of  the  immense  agricultural  farm 
connected  with  the  fort ;  the  herdsman,  who  superintends  the 
rearing  and  care  of  the  droves  of  cattle,  horses  and  other 
stock  of  the  corporation  ;  the  miller  in  charge  of  the  milling 
interests ;  the  shipwright,  who  directs  the  building,  launch- 
ing and  refitting  of  the  company's  fleet.  In  the  rear  of  these 
dwellings  are  mess-rooms  for  the  accommodation  of  the 
workmen  and  the  residences  of  the  different  overseers. 
Separate  a  little  stand  the  flouring-mills,  brewery,  ship-yards, 
machine  shops,  etc.,  all  supplied  with  the  latest  labor-saving 
machinery.  Scattered  along  the  bank  of  the  river  lie  moored 
or  drawn  up  on  the  beach  the  miniature  navy  of  the  company; 
here  a  lake  steamer,  there  river  steamboats,  then  schooners, 
yachts  and  a  whole  school  of  whale  boats,  with  one  mast,  un- 
stepped  at  will,  and  of  three  and  a  half  tons  burden,  used  in 
the  freighting  service,  and  requiring  nine  men  as  crew. 
Drawn  upon  the  beach  lie  birch-bark  canoes  of  all  sizes  and 
conditions,  from  the  little  one  of  a  single  passenger  capacity 
to  the  long  dispatch  boat  requiring  thirteen  navigators.  The 
steam  vessels  are  mostly  manned  by  Americans ;  the  sailing 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  Y  COMPANY. 


8l 


•'nl 


craft  by  the  Orkney  servants  of  the  company,  and  the  whale- 
boats  by  the  native  half-breeds.  The  birch-bark  canoe  is  the 
Indian's  buggy.  One  or  two  steam-tugs  whistle  and  puff 
rapidly  up  and  down  the  stream,  towing  rafts  of  lumber,  boats 
laden  with  limestone,  fire-wood,  etc.  The  remaining  sur- 
roundings of  the  fort  are  made  up  of  a  well  kept  vegetable 
garden,  extensive  stock  corrals  and  a  large  farm  under  per- 
fect cultivation. 

At  a  distance  of  some  twenty  miles,  at  the  foot  of  Lake 
Winnipeg,  among  the  marshes  and  lowlands,  are  the  cattle 
ranches  of  the  company.  There  the  stock  is  herded  during 
the  summer  and  housed  in  winter,  being  only  driven  to  the 
uplands  during  the  spring  and  fall  freshets.  The  generally 
high  price  of  cattle  makes  stock-raising  extremely  profitable, 
and  the  wandering  life  attendant  upon  their  care  is  particu- 
larly suited  to  the  native  herdsmen.  The  stock  is  co'llected 
every  spring  and  branded,  and  such  a  number  selected  as 
may  be  required  for  work  purposes  during  the  summer 
months.  Oxen  are  used  for  freighting  to  a  large  extent ; 
trains  of  several  hundred,  harnessed  singly  in  carts,  crossing 
the  prairies,  being  not  an  unusual  sight.  The  majority  of 
the  large  forts  in  the  Southern  country  have  their  stockyards 
and  farms,  and  the  amount  of  wealth  accumulated  in  this 
way  is  enormous. 

The  business  transacted  at  the  Stone  Fort,  if  we 'except 

freighting  and  some  minor  details  of  the  fur-trade,  may  be 

presented  as  a  fair  sample  of  that  carried  on  at  the  majority 

of  the  large  posts  contiguous  to  settlements ;  and  its  archi- 
4* 


82 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


lecture  and  surroundings,  if  wood  be  substituted  for  stone, 
identically  the  same.  But  the  great  depot  posts  in  the  North 
are  of  another  character,  and  of  one  we  wish  to  speak. 

Churchill  Factory  is  situated  about  five  miles  from  Hud- 
son's Bay,  upon  a  small  bay  on  the  Churchill  River,  and 
above  it,  extending  a  distance  of  seven  miles,  to  the  lower 
rapids,  is  a  large  marsh.  The  factory  receives  its  supplies 
once  a  year  from  a  vessel  which  arrives  in  the  latter  part  of 
August  or  early  in  September,  and  starts  back  upon  her 
homeward  voyage  after  a  delay  of  about  ten  days,  the  se- 
verity of  the  climate  rendering  it  imprudent  to  make  a  longer 
stay.  By  the  middle  of  November  the  Churchill  is  enchained 
in  ice,  on  which  even  the  spring  tides,  though  they  rise  ten 
or  twelve  feet  above  the  ordinary  level,  have  no  effect.  Not 
till  the  middle  of  June  does  the  sun,  getting  the  mastery  of 
the  frost,  compel  it  to  release  its  hold  and  let  the  river  flow 
on  its  course.  By  the  middle  of  October  the  marshes  and 
swamps  are  frozen  over,  and  the  earth  covered  with  snow. 
By  the  latter  end  of  December  snow  covers  the  stockade 
which  surrounds  the  factory  from  six  to  ten  feet  deep. 
Through  this  mass  pathways  about  five  feet  in  width  are  cut. 
Late  in  April  the  snow  begins  to  melt  away.  From  the  end 
of  October  to  the  end  of  April,  it  is  possible  to  walk  only 
upon  snow-shoes. 

In  such  a  climate,  much  of  what  is  done  by  the  white 
inhabitants  has  a  direct  reference  to  their  self-preservation. 
Before  annual  supplies  of  coal  were  forwarded  from  England, 
all  the  fuel  that  could  be  collected  in  the  neighborhood  of  the 


|!l)Miiii' )(i 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  V  COMPANY. 


83 


factory  was  barely  sufficient  to  supply  a  single  fire  in  the 
morning  and  evening.  During  the  remainder  of  the  day  the 
only  recourse  of  the  company's  servants,  when  the  weather 
was  bad,  was  to  walk  in  the  guard-room  under  the  protection 
of  heavy  coats  of  fur.  By  a  stroke  of  ingenuity  ice  was  turned 
into  a  means  of  protection  against  the  piercing  cold.  The 
interior  walls  of  the  house  were  covered  with  water,  which 
froze  into  solid  ice.  This  lining  was  found  to  hold  firm 
until  the  general  thaw  of  spring  came.  In  the  intensity  of 
frost,  rocks,  into  the  crevices  of  which  water  has  run,  split 
with  a  report  resembling  that  of  a  gun.  Everywhere  they  are 
punctured  and  riven  from  the  effects  of  freezing  water. 

The  return  of  spring  and  summer,  after  a  long,  gloomy 
winter,  in  this  region,  is  like  an  awakening  to  a  new  life. 
The  welcome  change  is  thoroughly  enjoyed.  Summer  treads 
so  closely  upon  the  heels  of  winter  as  scarcely  to  leave  any 
standing  ground  for  spring.  One  of  the  great  drawbacks  to 
the  enjoyment  of  the  summer  consists  in  the  myriads  of 
mosquitoes  that  fill  the  air,  and  give  the  weary  dwellers  no 
rest  day  or  night.  They  crowd  in  such  numbers  at  Churchill 
Factory  as  to  appear  to  crush  one  another  to  death  ;  and  the 
victims  are  sometimes  in  such  piles  that  they  have  to  be  swept 
out  twice  every  day.  Nothing  but  a  northeast  wind,  carrying 
the  chill  from  the  ice  over  which  it  has  passed,  gives  relief 
from  these  tormentors.  As  a  cure  for  mosquito  bites,  the 
natives  anoint  themselves  with  sturgeon  oil — an  effective 
remedy,  but  one  requiring  to  be  often  applied.  Nor  is  man 
alone  the  only  victim  of  these  insects.     They  prey  equally 


Ml 


84 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


'!!  ! 


.ill 


upon  animals  of  various  kinds;  even  the  feathered  tribe,  so 
far  from  being  safe,  suffer  about  the  neck  and  eyes.  No  per- 
manent relief  can  be  expected  until  the  chilly  nights  of  Sep- 
tember set  in.  In  this  month  the  sandflies  and  midges  are 
innumerable,  the  latter  insinuating  themselves  all  over  the 
body,  the  clothes  affording  no  adequate  protection.  These 
insect  plagues  cease  their  torments  at  sunset,  and  they  dis- 
appear entirely  in  October.  However  the  fact  may  be  ac- 
counted for,  all  these  pests  become  more  numerous  the  farther 
one  goes  north.  In  the  swamps,  where  they  are  most  numer- 
ous, they  make  the  dogs  howl,  roll  on  the  ground  and  rush 
into  the  water.  The  fox  shows  his  restlessness  by  barking 
and  snapping  about,  and  when  inclination  would  suggest  his 
going  after  birds'  nests,  he  is  compelled  to  seek  shelter  in  his 
burrow.  If  the  chief  business  of  the  company's  servants  in 
winter  is  to  struggle  for  existence  against  the  cold,  in  the 
summer  an  equally  fierce  contest  takes  place  aga'nst  mosqui- 
toes, sandflies  and  the  overpowering  heat. 

Widely  different  from  the  great  depot  forts,  however,  are 
the  trading-posts  of  the  company — (juaint-looking  places  con- 
structed according  to  a  uniform  type.  Built  generally  upon 
the  second  or  lower  bank  of  a  river  or  lake,  though  some- 
times perched  upon  the  loftier  outer  banks,  a  trading-fort  is 
invariably  a  square  or  oblong,  enclosed  by  immense  trees  or 
pickets,  one  end  sunk  deeply  in  the  ground,  and  placed  close 
together.  In  the  prairie  country  this  defence  is  stout  and 
lofty,  but  in  the  wooded  region  it  is  frequently  dispensed  with 
altogether.     A  platform,  about  the  ordinary  height  of  a  man. 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  Y  COMPANY. 


85 


is  carried  along  inside  the  square,  so  as  to  enable  any  one  to 
peep  over  without  being  in  danger  from  arrow  or  bullet.  The 
entrance  is  closed  by  two  massive  gates,  an  inner  and  an  outer 
one,  and  all  the  houses  of  the  chief  trader  and  his  men,  the 
trading-store,  fur-room  and  warehouses  are  within  the  square 
— the  former  always  standing  in  the  middle,  the  latter  ranged 
about  the  walls,  facing  inward.  At  the  four  corners  of  the 
palisade  are  bastions,  generally  two  stories  high,  pierced  with 
embrasures,  to  delude  the  Indians  into  the  belief  that  cannon 
are  there,  and  intended  to  strike  terror  into  any  red-skinned 
rebel  daring  to  dispute  the  supremacy  of  the  company. 

The  trade-room,  or,  as  it  is  more  frequently  called,  the 
Indian-shop,  at  an  interior  trading-post,  bears  a  close  resem- 
blance to  the  store  of  civilization.  It  contains  every  imagina- 
ble commodity  likely  to  be  required  by  the  Indian.  Upon 
its  shelves  are  piled  bales  of  cloth  of  all  colors,  capotes, 
blankets,  etc.;  in  smaller  divisions  are  placed  balls  of  twine, 
scalping-knives,  gun  flints,  fire-steels,  files,  gun-screws,  canoe- 
awls,  and  glass  beads  of  all  colors,  sizes  and  descriptions. 
Drawers  under  the  counter  contain  fish-hooks,  needles,  scis- 
sors, thimbles,  red  and  yellow  ochre  and  vermilion  for  paint- 
ing faces  and  canoes.  Upon  the  floor  is  strewn  an  assort- 
'ment  of  tin  and  copper  kettles,  ranging  in  capacity  from  a 
pint  to  half  a  gallon.  In  the  corners  of  the  room  stand  trad- 
ing-guns, kegs  of  powder  and  boxes  of  balls,  while  from  the 
ceiling  depend  other  articles  of  trade. 

In  many  of  the  forts  the  trade-room  is  cleverly  contrived 
to  prevent  a  sudden  rush  of  Indians,  the  approach  from  out- 


1 


86 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


\       ! 


Ill''' 


side  the  pickets  being  through  a  long,  narrow  passage  only 
of  sufficient  width  to  admit  a  single  Indian  at  a  time,  and 
bent  at  an  acute  angle  at  the  window  where  the  trader  stands. 
This  precaution  is  rendered  necessary  by  the  frantic  desire 
which  sometimes  seizes  the  Indian  to  shoot  the  trader. 

Time  moves  slowly  at  many  of  these  isolated  trading-posts 
and  change  is  almost  unknown.  To-day  they  are  the  same 
as  they  were  one  hundred  years  ago.  The  requisition  for 
the  goods  of  this  year  contain  precisely  the  same  articles  as 
that  of  a  century  since.  The  Indian  trapper  still  brings  his 
marten  and  musquash,  and  his  wants  are  still  strouds,  cot- 
tons, beads,  and  trading-guns.  The  sun-dial,  placed  in  the 
open  courtyard  three  generations  ago,  has  apparently 
changed  no  more  than  the  great  luminary  whose  course  it 
marks.  Only  outside  the  walls,  where  a  rude  cross  or 
wooden  railing,  blown  over  by  the  tempest,  discolored  by 
rain  and  snow-drift,  marks  the  lonely  resting-place  of  the 
dead,  does  the  roll  of  the  passing  years  leave  its  trace. 

Until  a  comparatively  recent  date  the  system  of  trading 
at  all  the  company's  posts  was  entirely  one  of  barter,  money 
values  being  unknown.  Latterly,  however,  the  all-potent 
dollar  is  becoming  a  recognized  medium  of  exchange,  espe- 
cially at  the  forts  nearest  the  borders  of  civilization  ;  but  the 
standard  of  values  throughout  all  the  territories  of  the  com- 
pany is  still  the  beaver-skin,  by  which  the  prices  of  all  other 
furs  are  governed.  Every  service  rendered,  or  purchase 
made,  is  paid  for  in  skins,  the  beaver  being  the  unit  of  com- 
putation. 


THE  HUDSON'S  BA  Y  COMPANY. 


87 


The  collection  of  fur  skins  throughout  the  company's 
territory  is  made  during  the  autumn  and  winter  months  at 
the  different  trading-posts ;  the  summer  season  being  occu- 
pied in  transporting  goods  to  the  various  districts,  the  con- 
centration of  furs  at  the  depots,  and  the  collection  of  a  suffi- 
cient supply  of  provisions  to  last  over  winter.  The  latter 
consist  in  the  plain  districts  of  pemmican — dried  buffalo  meat 
mingled  with  fat — and  flour;  in  the  wood  districts  of  fish  and 
dried  moose  and  reindeer-meat.  A  winter  very  rarely  passes 
at  the  more  isolated  forts,  however,  without  the  little  garrison 
being  reduced  to  very  short  allowance,  often  being  obliged 
to  kill  their  horses  to  maintain  life. 

The  life  of  the  company's  servants  is  a  hard  one  in  many 
respects,  yet  it  seems  admirably  suited  to  the  daring  men, 
who  have  shown  a  patient  endurance  of  every  hardship  and 
privation  in  the  fur-trade.  Indeed,  no  other  branch  of  com- 
merce has  tended  more  to  bring  out  man's  energy  and  cour- 
age. To  the  pursuit  of  fur  may  be  traced  the  sources  from 
which  the  knowledge  of  three-fourths  of  the  continent  of 
North  America  has  been  derived. 


'  % 


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M' 


CHAPTER  V. 

LIFE  IN  A  Hudson's  bay  company's  fort. 

'  I  '"HE  people  resident  in  a  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  post 
■*•  form  a  community  of  themselves,  more  or  less  gregari- 
ous, as  the  establishment  is  designed  for  trading  purposes,  a 
depot  of  supplies,  or  merely  an  isolated  stockade  for  the  ac- 
cumulation of  provisions  for  the  use  of  the  larger  forts.  But, 
of  whatever  character  the  place  may  be  a  regular  business- 
routine,  demanding  certain  times  for  the  performance  of 
special  duties,  is  strictly  observed.  This  routine,  which  at 
certain  seasons  of  the  year  degenerates  into  the  merest  for- 
mality, there  being  literally  nothing  to  do,  is  the  great  pre- 
ventive of  physical  and  mental  rust  among  the  inhabitants, 
and  an  antidote  for  that  listless  apathy  which  would  certainly 
obtain  were  no  defined  rule.3  of  action  and  employment  fol- 
lowed. Every  member  of  the  community,  from  the  factor  or 
clerk  in  charge  to  the  cook,  is  expected  to  be,  and  almost  in- 
variably is,  at  his  post  of  duty  at  the  times  designated  for  its 
especial  performance.  And  wherever  this  rule  of  action  is 
followed,  it  is  wonderful  what  a  multitude  of  affairs  con- 
stantly develop  to  demand  attention,  and  what  an  amount  of 
the  smaller  details  of  business  may  be  thoroughly  cared  for. 
From  this  system  come  the  close  economy  with  which  the 


ItH 


LIFE  IN  A  COMPANY'S  FORT. 


89 


affairs  of  the  company  are  conducted,  and  the  perfect  under- 
standing of  the  petty  details  of  every  branch  of  its  business 
on  the  part  of  its  employes.  This  is  augmented  in  a  great 
measure,  of  course,  by  the  assignment  of  certain  persons  to 
the  performance  of  particular  duties,  and  their  retention  in 
that  position  for  a  term  of  years,  enabling  each  incumbent  to 
gain  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  requirements  of  his  place. 
For  example,  a  clerk  in  the  service,  in  the  great  majority  of 
instances,  must  remain  a  simple  clerk  for  a  term  of  fourteen 
years  before  he  is  even  considered  as  being  in  the  line  of  pro- 
motion. During  these  long  years  of  service  he  must,  per- 
force, gain  a  thorough  practical  knowledge  of  the  duties,  and 
even  of  the  most  trivial  details,  relating  to  his  station.  From 
long  custom  he  falls  into  the  beaten  channels  of  the  trade, 
its  manner  of  executing  business  details,  and  identifies  him- 
self with  its  traditions.  So,  when  he  assumes  charge  of  a 
post  or  district,  he  carries  with  him,  to  assist  in  the  discharge 
of  his  new  responsibilities,  that  punctuality,  adherence  to 
routine,  and  careful  regard  for  the  little  things  of  his  position, 
which  he  has  so  well  learned  in  his  apprenticeship.  These 
characteristics  are  of  such  a  nature  as  to  develop  a  sufficient 
amount  of  employment  for  the  chief  officer  of  a  post  even  in 
the  dullest  times. 

The  real  life  of  the  fort,  then,  consisting  for  the  most  part 
of  mere  routine,  may  be  said  to  begin  at  the  breakfast-hour, 
which  is  as  regularly  appointed  as  those  for  the  dispatch  of 
business.  The  breakfast-time  with  the  lower  class  of  em- 
ployes, the  nature  of  whose  duties  demands  early  rising,  is 


ii 


m. 


■f' 


90 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


m 


it 


about  six  o'clock  in  the  winter  and  five  in  the  summer 
seasons.  These  servants  mess  by  themselves,  drawing  ra- 
tions at  regular  intervals  through  a  steward,  much  after  the 
fashion  of  army-life.  A  cook  is  appointed  from  their  num- 
ber, who  performs  that  duty  alone,  and  who  is  responsible  for 
the  provisions,  quantity  and  quality  of  food,  etc.  A  short 
season,  generally  devoted  to  pipe-smoking,  is  allowed  after 
each  meal,  when  they  separate  to  their  various  duties. 

At  the  officers'  mess,  over  which  the  trader  or  factor  in 
charge  of  the  post  presides,  and  which  is  located  in  the  build- 
ing he  occupies,  assemble  the  family  of  that  official,  the  clerks 
and  apprentices  of  every  grade  who  are  entitled  to  the  name 
of  "company's  gentlemen,"  and  the  stranger  temporarily 
within  the  gates.  In  conformity  with  the  system  of  early 
hours  prevalent  in  the  country,  breakfast  with  this  mess  takes 
place  at  half-past  seven  or  eight  o'clock  at  different  seasons, 
dinner  at  two,  and  supper  at  six  in  the  evening.  It  is  at 
these  hours  that  the  social  life  of  the  day  may  be  said  to  trans- 
pire. Here  the  limited  budget  of  local  and  foreign  news  is 
discussed.  Whatever  of  wit  and  humor  may  have  occurred 
to  the  minds  of  its  members  during  the  day  is  carefully 
treasured  up  to  be  gotten  off  with  appropriate  effect  amid 
the  genial  surroundings  and  mello'ving  influences  of  meal- 
time sociality.  Should  the  chance  gleam  of  humor  happen 
to  be  upon  some  subject  foreign  to  the  discourse  in  hand,  the 
conversation  is  adroitly  trained  into  the  desired  channel  to 
afford  an  occasion  for  its  opportune  delivery ;  for  a  gleam  of 
humor  is  too  precious  a  thing  to  be  lightly  thrown  away. 


LIFE  IN  A  COMPANY'S  FONT. 


9» 


The  conversation,  however,  hinges  for  the  most  part,  from 
the  very  nature  of  their  isolated  position,  upon  local  subjects, 
connected  more  or  less  remotely  with  the  trade.  The  suc- 
cess of  Pierre's  last  venture  w^ith  an  outfit  of  goods  traded  at 
some  Indian  camp ;  the  quantity  of  fish  or  pemmican  pro- 
cured by  Sandy  at  his  provision-stockade ;  the  amount  of 
goods  needed  for  the  season's  trade,  etc.,  form  staple  and 
interesting  topics  of  discourse  and  comment.  The  habit 
soon  forms  of  making  the  most  of  the'ie  meagre  subjects, 
until  quite  a  degree  of  enthusiasm  can  b<  sadily  excited 
about  really  trivial  matters.  Not  that  th»^,  mental  scope  of 
the  mess-i'-able  is  necessarily  limited  t  crivialitie«:  uut  that 
S'"':'-'  ts  of  discussion  requiring  .-^.ny  profim.  ty  of  thought 
present  themselves  infrequently.  The  habu,  too,  of  close 
attention  to  mere  details  tends  to  draw  thougl.L  in  that  direc- 
tion, to  the  exclusion  of  more  general  n-atters. 

The  comparative  monotony  of  the  mess-room,  which  ob- 
tains from  the  meagreness  of  the  conditions  of  its  isolated 
life,  and  from  the  long  and  perfect  intimacy  of  those  compos- 
ing its  social  circle,  is,  nevertheless,  often  broken  by  the  ad- 
vent of  a  stranger  at  the  board.  This  stranger  may  be  a 
passing  official  from  another  post  in  the  service,  or  some 
wanderer  who  braves  the  discomforts  of  travel  through  those 
inhospitable  regions  from  a  traveler's  curiosity.  In  either 
case  he  is  equally  a  stranger  to  the  mess-room,  from  the  fact 
of  the  unusual  budget  of  news  he  brings  to  add  to  the  some- 
what worn  and  threadbare  stock  of  discourse  already  in  hand. 
The  arrival  of  such  a  personage  is  a  matter  of  much  bustle 


•  »'  r 


:is    I 


I 


if ; 


W    1 


\  nv^y 


'/A- 


vxNh^'iAUn.     hNvWrxli  hr  <-»  \A\\\  in  \\v  \\\\\x^\\  m\A  tlliuni  IH 

W  >SS\Ax:^  \\\t  xSxYiXfiWW  \M   ;\   x\xAmWx\  i\\\x\    'kWxtWw^    Avv\\\\\\\  \\\ 

WviSUVW^xSWk!^  M  whivh  ho  h^n  hA\Vct\  on  ihr  unv.     As  ihf  \\\ 
t^^^AmAjit**  tMt^'^  tm<>U>vif<i  T^r  ihv  r«Mi\|^rt<U'  have  Ihmm»  pio 

^^^*11^v>^A  ^Vitr  a  v^nmivy  ^t^Avhiw^  w  ihtj  rtnnpn»U'«.     \'\\v 

An<i  kx>e^^N5  th^  v^tAx -i^NmxM   \n  t'uU  \\M  i)f  vonv^v»e^  rt\ui  the 

t^ftifwsv»<'  tKis  WAi«n\  ht*  h{\"s  h\!*  own  .u\tohiogti»)>hv  sinoe 
t^  nwt  ot' tW>v  \am  mtvung  h>  uM<\io  ;  u^kts  to  pevpeMrtte 
'ftx^er  th«  <'5M\^|\'\i^-e'?  \Nf  ^>rt^!seni  tomjvwn  M  \\h\«h  ho  hns 
l!«6a<N:lx  A^-vi \f  heii\>^U wt\^<vt the oxM\(tnos olriviliKation  thitn 
hi^  >»<i>!six  tH<>  Ktt^^sd  news  ttMm  ihe  >>utvM  wotUi  to  ovunnumi- 
x\t«>,  A51  those  t\N?vros  -iX'  ii'xM\\-efs{^tiot\  vtre  tvligivnisly  ; oserx  od 
fer  -d5?9*n?5>!;>«>«  A«ii  reveUtion  At  the  twess-tAhle,  that  the  en- 
tire o<>wiWtti4ky  mAv  pnNfii  by  their  disiH.n\s.^tion. 


f  n  !•  IX    \  ( i<Uf  I  v  I  V  /  ii^f\ 


01 


rttitl  t)  KtMilrll  *)|tlMI  Hf  (^fjoH  M\>tWHh)\i  t\^9hiti\iH  Htuift  thd 
HiiiMlltil  ^-yt  llfitiMil.    MiHftll  iHf^i't  nt  ¥f\htf  rth/l  np\fifn,  htmtt^cti 

I'rlllh|t«  (1  fl<«'  rlniir-i,  ()(M/ll(i c/l  ;(<«  M  Klf-^  tfMf,  ttfi'l  H(^lf  Wrty 
HiV'^tt'Htiimly  liiln  llic  fMMiM  f^'MM  »f((/(f  ((Mhi'(wf»  t\ifni  iti 
wliii  li  iltcy  llrtVM  l.'ild  IdiHt-'l  tut  ytewN,  Tl/f  n^tih^  fiiow  ftt 
rt'lltiwihlji  tli't»|!-n«i  tvlfli  hHi'U  niiH-fHWuji  a^ntht'titut,  tiUnnf  thi- 
liHrli'il.  until  III.'  wIimIc  MiMiirMihlfy  ftt\  \in  tirviv\tnt,  Uit^tiftitf'. 
Tlu-   loll|jt   cvfliitiijjM  ol   Horl.'d   ililf'frO««f«t?  UtiS  \tttittA('ii:ti   irtf 

lifyotitl  iln-if  ihsiKtl  «'Mfi(,  ,Mf)(l  Mhl  tMef«^H«?«  ntt  tuthktmif 
dhiiitgt'tl  Ifttili  In  (ffd  the  liic,  of  t  ntii/^tntiiUm  nhtiuUi  tht^y 
«liiMV  ivmptuitiH  (t(  !il»/(tr'inf'Ml-     i'jvcu  Uttiu.  nUt>t  iht'  ti^pnrtutt^ 

nl  lite  lf-MMHi"tll  V  iMilnC,  l(h  «)iyi(i^'<,  ffl''  (M'W«*  )i<"  imf^rtf^H, -'rw^il 

lllu  htllit-Miin  liiiit'of  (Mf'f-rlfiit'fil  Uc  tm nn'ufni;()i  fiituinh  nhutt^h 
Khi  itinlh'i  nf  i  (miimm'IiI. 

Tilt'  Miiiviil  nffi  iKivN'T  froMUli*' '/((fff  vforld  i»<  h'/v^^^v^f, 
the  girrtt  (•|iimn|f'  iii  the  ♦•vefy-dfiy  life  of  th<f  (»o*tf.  'ihtmmi- 
nuitiily  find  In  IjiiiifUi  iheshniislllilff  Utnui  of  hu'noyincjit ;  and, 
i(  lif  III'  (•(  ;i  ( 'iMuiiiihi»rttive  di«po«i(iofi,  hisslore  of  rK-wsaml 
niirmtivp  will  do  servlre  in  \ii\ytiu-iii  nf  hin  w^^ekly  l/o-if/I-brH 
In)  III)  iiidfflnite  pt-riod.  To  nuth  a  one  tne  ho<«f/it;«Hti<r«  of 
till'  (nil  (iro  extenrled  in  llie  inosl  l(lier«l  tnnnrtet.  An  nffftrt- 
nuMit  ifliisisignt'd  Inin  for  his  sole  tHrupnwy  dnring  the  petiot} 
of  liiB  Bojotmi.  I  lo  is  ffee  to  come  nnd  k"  ^h«n  a«d  where 
he  lifllPtli,  mortns  of  h;(  oinfition  l»ein«  ftirnished  njj/m  (hrmmth 
The  nieiid>ef»  of  the  community  delight  in  exf/iaining  to  him 


II 


! 


94 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


i:iii: 


any  matters  pertaining  to  their  isolated  life  which  may  attract 
his  attention,  thereby  affording  an  opportunity  of  conversa- 
tion. His  companionship  is  eagerly  sought  by  all,  and  the 
fortunate  individual  who  secures  his  preferred  acquaintance 
excites  at  once  the  envy  of  less  favored  ones.  Nothing  is  left 
undone  to  render  his  stay  pleasant,  and  to  prolong  it  to  the 
utmost.  When  he  finally  takes  his  departure,  he  is  sent  upon 
his  journey  freighted  with  the  good  wishes  of  the  isolated 
post,  and  certain  of  the  same  cordial  treatment  at  his  next 
stopping-place. 

The  mess-table  has,  too,  other  attractions  than  those  of 
sociality,  and  of  a  more  solidly  substantial  kind.  The  officers 
of  the  forts  are  all  good  livers,  and,  although  accustomed  to 
rough  it  on  short  allowances  of  food  when  necessity  requires, 
take  particular  care  that  the  home-larder  shall  be  well  stocked 
with  all  the  delicacies  and  substantials  afforded  by  the  sur- 
rounding country.  The  viands  are  of  necessity  composed,  in 
the  greater  part,  of  the  wild  game  and  fish  with  which  the 
prairies  and  waters  abound.  But  they  are  of  the  choicest 
kind,  and  selected  from  an  abundant  supply.  One  gets  there 
the  buffalo-hump — tender  and  juicy ;  the  moose-nose — tremu- 
lous and  opaque  as  a  vegetable  conserve  ;  the  finest  and  most 
savory  waterfowl,  and  the  freshest  of  fish — all  preserved  by 
the  power  of  frost  instead  of  salt.  True,  the  supply  of  vege- 
tables at  many  mess-tables  is  wofuUy  deficient,  and  a  continu- 
ous diet  of  wild  meats,  like  most  other  things  of  eternal  same- 
ness, is  apt  to  pall  upon  the  appetite.  But  the  list  of  meats 
is  so  extensive,  and  each  requiring  a  particular  mode  of  cook- 


LIFE  IN  A  COMPANY'S  FORT. 


95 


ing  that  a  long  time  may  elapse  without  a  repetition  of  dishes. 
Then,  too,  the  climate  favors  the  consumption  of  solid  food, 
and,  after  short  residence,  the  appetite  becomes  seasoned  to 
the  quality  of  the  fare  obtainable.  Bread,  as  an  imported 
article,  is  in  many  instances  regarded  as  quite  in  the  charac- 
ter of  a  luxury ;  the  few  sacks  of  flour  which  constitute  the 
annual  allowance  of  each  officer  being  hoarded  away  by  the 
prudent  housewife  as  carefully  as  the  jams  and  preserves  of 
her  more  fortunate  sisters.  In  such  cases  it  is  batted  into 
small  cakes,  one  of  which  is  placed  beside  each  plate  at  meal- 
time ;  the  size  of  the  cake  being  so  regulated  as  to  afford  a 
single  one  for  each  meal  of  the  year.  The  more  common 
vegetables,  such  as  potatoes  and  turnips,  can  be  successfully 
cultivated  in  some  places,  and,  wherever  this  occurs,  enter 
largely  into  the  daily  menu.  Fruits,  either  fresh  or  dried, 
seldom  make  their  appearance  upon  the  table  ;  lack  of  trans- 
portation, also,  forbidding  the  importation  of  the  canned 
article. 

At  many  of  the  remote  inland  posts,  however,  the  daily 
bill  of  fare  is  limited  enough,  and  a  winter  season  seldom 
passes  without  the  garrison  of  some  isolated  station  suffering 
extreme  privation.  At  Jasper  and  Henry  Houses,  for  ex- 
ample, the  officers  have  been  frequently  forced  to  slaughter 
their  horses  in  order  to  supplement  the  meagre  supply  of 
provisions.  These  posts  are  situated  in  the  very  heart  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains,  with  the  vast  region  marked  "  swampy  " 
on  the  maps  separating  them  from  the  depot  forts.  In  many 
of  the  extreme  Arctic  stations  the  supply  of  provisions  is 


% 

.;.', 

i  % 

Li. 

% 

% 

,f  - ' 

im 


96 


TJ/£  G/iEA  T  FUR  LAND. 


!!! 


limited  the  year  round  to  reindeer-meat,  and  fish,  and  not 
infrequently  to  the  latter  alone.  Under  these  circumstances, 
no  wonder  that  the  company's  officer  comes  to  regard  the 
possession  of  flour  and  sugar  as  among  the  most  essential 
requisites  of  life. 

As  to  the  comforts  of  upholstery  and  furniture  in  the 
mess-room,  and,  indeed,  throughout  the  entire  establishment, 
but  little  attention  is  paid  to  it.  The  constantly-recurring 
changes  of  residence,  occasioned  by  the  necessities  of  their 
condition,  render  the  officers  of  the  company,  as  a  class,  some- 
what careless  about  the  accommodations  afforded  by  their 
houses.  At  remote  stations,  the  most  simple  articles  of  fur- 
niture are  held  to  be  sufficient,  and  shifts  are  made  to  adapt 
different  objects  to  uses  not  contemplated  by  their  makers. 
The  strong,  compact  wooden  trunks  or  traveling-cases  used 
in  the  country,  for  example  often  constitute  the  chief  pieces 
of  furniture — if  we  except,  perhaps,  a  bedstead — and  db  duty 
as  chairs,  tables,  and  wardrobe.  At  the  larger  posts,  how- 
ever, and  at  the  principal  depot-stations,  the  residents  are 
furnished  with  more  of  the  appliances  of  civilization,  and 
means  exist  whereby  such  as  may  be  so  inclined  can  render 
themselves  very  comfortable ;  more  especially  as  changes  of 
appointments  occur  less  frequently  at  headquarters  than 
elsewhere. 

While  it  must  be  confessed  that  the  main  body  of  officers 
confine  themselves  in  this  regard  to  the  practical  and  useful, 
yet  it  not  infrequently  happens  that  a  gentleman  of  independ- 
ent taste  turns  up  who,  animated  by  the  desire  of  giving  an 


-„;-i.  t , 


LIFE  IN  A   COMPANY'S  FORT. 


97 


artistic  air  to  his  chamber,  graces  the  useful  with  more  or  less 
of  the  ornamental.  These  peculiarities  of  individual  taste  be- 
tray themselves  most  strikingly  in  the  selection  and  disposal 
of  bedroom  furniture.  Brightly  burnished  arms,  powder-flasks, 
and  shot-pouches,  are  arranged  in  fantastic  figures  upon  the 
walls.  Objects  of  aboriginal  handiwork  in  birch-bark,  por- 
cupine-quills, and  beadwork,  impart  a  certain  barbaric  splen- 
dor to  the  apartment ;  while  in  vivid  contrast  appear  rude 
frames  enclosing  highly-colored  lithographs  of  deeds  of  daring 
on  the  British  turf,  highways,  and  waters.  Prize-fighters,  sway- 
ing in  fierce  conflict,  and  surrounded  by  excited  and  applaud- 
ing hundreds,  may  be  seen  in  round  the  last ;  race-horses, 
flecked  with  foam  and  dirt,  stretch  away  in  the  dim  perspec- 
tive in  a  neck-and-neck  race  toward  a  winning-post  where  an 
eager  crowd  of  spectators  stand  with  uplifted  hands  to  wel- 
come the  favorite  ;  wild  huntsmen,  with  impossible  dogs,  and 
guns  with  crooked  barrels,  fire  wildly  toward  the  left  and  bring 
down  myriads  of  birds  at  the  right ;  and,  to  crown  all,  a  red- 
and-yellow  picture  of  Queen  Victoria  in  the  character  of  a 
female  Neptune,  seated  on  a  solitary  rock  in  raid-ocean  and 
holding  a  pitchfork  in  her  hand,  occupies  the  post  of  honor, 
and  is  supposed  to  represent  the  omnipotent  Britannia. 

The  business  of  the  post,  with  the  exception  of  the  neces- 
sary employments  of  the  lower  servants,  is  transacted  between 
the  hours  of  nine  in  the  morning  and  six  in  the  evening,  with 
an  interval  of  an  hour  between  two  and  three  o'clock  for 
dinner,  when  the  offices  and  stores  are  closed.  Generally 
speaking,  this  division  of  time  holds  good  all  the  year  round 


iiil 


I!!l 


98 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAS'D. 


thougli  slight  modifications  take  place  with  the  changing 
seasons  and  periods  when  little  work  is  done.  During  these 
hours  of  business  there  is  much  to  be  looked  after,  especially 
in  the  summer  season.  When  the  bell  announces  the  open- 
ing of  the  fort-gates,  the  inclosure  soon  fills  with  Indians  and 
traders,  who  besiege  the  counter  of  the  trading-store,  or 
lounge  idly  about  the  yard — picturesque  vagabonds  in  motley 
attire.  The  few  clerks  in  charge  are  busily  engaged  in  meas- 
uring tea,  sugar,  ammunition,  etc.,  into  colored-cotton  hand- 
kerchiefs unwrapped  from  greasy  aboriginal  heads  for  their 
reception  ;  in  examining  furs  and  paying  for  them  in  instal- 
ments; in  measuring  off  the  scanty  yards  of  blue-cotton 
prints  that  are  to  clothe  the  forms  of  dusky  belles,  or  causing 
howls  of  delight  by  the  exhibition  of  gilt  jewelry  to  be  sold 
^it  ten  times  its  original  cost. 

Outside  the  stockade,  the  voyagcurx  are  loading  whale- 
boats,  in  the  adjacent  stream  with  bales  of  fur  for  transporta- 
tion to  depot-forts,  or  discharging  cargoes  of  merchandise 
destined  to  wide-spread  distribution.  Over  this  process  an 
accountant  keeps  careful  watch,  as  he  does  over  everything 
involving  a  representative  value  for  which  he  will  be  held  to 
account.  All  is  bustle  and  activity ;  yet  there  is  no  haste. 
The  careful  attention  to  details  exhibits  itself  in  everything, 
and  the  minutest  w-atch  is  kept  over  all. 

As  the  day  advances,  the  arrivals  at  the  fort  increase  in 
number  and  importance.  Ofttimes  a  large  band  of  Indians 
ride  rapidly  up  to  the  stockade,  and,  turning  their  ponies 
loose  upon  the  prairie,  enter  upon  the  barter  of  small  quan- 


LIFE  h\  A  COMPAXV'S  FOKT. 


mm 


hi!    ! 


100 


T//E  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


tities  of  peltries  to  supply  their  immediate  necessities.  Again, 
the  band  will  encamp  about  the  stockade,  trading  the  results 
of  a  long  and  successful  hunt,  and  making  the  days  and  nights 
hideous  with  their  heathenish  festivities.  Their  camp-fires 
light  up  the  plain  round  about  with  a  fitful  glare  ;  their  green- 
and-yellow-painted  visages  and  blanket-attired  forms  assume 
at  length  a  certain  degree  of  individuality  ;  and  the  more  im- 
portunate beggars  even  become  familiar  objects  to  the  sight ; 
when  suddenly  they  are  gone,  only  to  be  replaced  by  others 
of  a  like  description  ;  for  a  company's  fort  is  seldom  free 
from  its  complement  of  chronic  hangers-on.  There  is,  too, 
much  bustle  created  by  the  arrivals  and  departures  of  officials 
from  other  forts  of  the  service,  en  route  in  charge  of  boat- 
brigades  for  distant  points,  who  stop  but  for  a  few  hours,  and 
are  off  again.  Should  the  season  be  winter,  however,  the 
business  hours  are,  to  a  certain  degree,  merely  formal,  and 
the  time  is  occupied  in  those  petty  details  to  be  found  in  any 
occupation.  True,  a  certain  amount  of  trade  prevails  at  the 
larger  posts  throughout  the  year,  which,  at  the  remote  estab- 
lishments, takes  the  form  of  outfitting  traders  who  visit  Indian 
camps,  or  small  trading-stations  at  a  distance,  with  dog-trains. 
But  there  is  always  much  time,  even  during  the  hours  sup- 
posed to  be  especially  devoted  to  business,  for  which  it  is  dif- 
ficult to  find  full  employment. 

At  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  the  labors  of  the  day  termi- 
nate, and  the  members  of  the  community  are  at  liberty  to  pass 
the  remaining  hours  of  the  twenty-four  as  they  list.  And 
these  are  the  monotonous  hours  which  drag  most  wearily  upon 
each  individual  member.  In  the  summer  season,  recourse  is 
had  to  athletic  exercises  during  the  long  twilights — rowing 


'  1  i    ' 


LIFE  IN  A  COMPANY'S  FORT. 


lOI 


upon  the  rivers,  pitching  quoits,  equestrian  excursions,  etc., 
obtaining  with  the  younger  and  more  hardy  clerks ;  others 
the  pleasures  of  the  chase  attract,  and  prolonged  forays  with 
dog  and  gun  are  made  upon  the  waterfowl  in  the  neighboring 
water-courses.  But  this  vernal  season  is  brief,  and  the  time 
soon  comes  when  the  attractions  of  in-door  life  must  supply 
the  mental  pabulum.  For  this  purpose  numerous  modes  of 
employment  are  resorted  to. 

With  the  officer  in  charge  the  long  evenings  are  generally 
passed  in  the  society  of  his  family,  and  in  writing  up  the  log- 
book of  the  post.  This  latter  work,  if  he  be  a  man  given  to 
composition,  soon  becomes  a  labor  of  love.  In  it  he  chroni- 
cles all  the  petty  incidents  of  the  day  :  the  arrivals  and  depart- 
ures ;  the  principal  receipts  and  expenditures ;  the  health  of 
the  little  community  under  his  charge,  etc.  To  this  he  ap- 
pends a  meteorological  report  with  all  the  exactness  of  "  Old 
Prob."  himself.  There  may  be  added,  also,  the  general  reflec- 
tions of  the  writer  on  subjects  pertaining  to  the  service,  and 
such  suggestions  as  seem  to  grow  out  of  the  events  noted. 
He  may  even  wander  to  a  limited  extent  outside  the  bounds 
of  strict  business  matters,  and  indulge  in  little  flights  of  com- 
position on  subjects  irrelevant  to  the  trade.  It  happens  not 
infrequently  that  short  poems  of  greater  or  less  measures  of 
excellence,  and  brief  prose  sketches  of  fair  diction  and  vivid 
■  imaginings,  appear  scattered  among  the  dry  bones  of  statistics. 
But  it  must  be  said  of  the  majority  of  log-books  that  they 
smack  only  of  weather-reports,  the  deficiencies  of  the  frozen- 
fish  supply,  or  the  accumulation  of  peltries. 

With  the  younger  portion  of  the  community — the  clerks, 
apprentices,  and  post-masters — conversation  and  the  peaceful 


ip 


It 


102 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


Ill 


ii 


1 

■  i 

i 

i  !' 

1 

^^^1 

"' 

1 
i 

j 

j 

!    Li:    ! 

\ 

Ij 

i 

X'  ■ 

:r!l 

1 
i 

i 

1 

ij 

1 '  ' 

li 

.li 

pipe  occupy  a  prominent  position  in  the  passage  of  time. 
Games,  too,  are  in  great  demand,  and  every  apartment  pos- 
sesses its  well-thumbed  pack  of  cards,  its  rude  cribbage- 
board,  and  sets  of  wooden  dominoes.  Reading  men  find 
abundant  leisure  to  pursue  their  favorite  occupation  during  the 
long  winter  evenings.  Books,  as  the  property  of  private  indi- 
viduals, from  the  difficulty  i  n  transporting  them,  are,  however, 
more  scarce  than  might  be  expected.  To  atone  somewhat  for 
this,  the  company  have  established  extensive  libraries  for  the 
use  of  the  officers  and  servants  in  many  of  the  larger  stations 
in  the  north,  from  which  supplies  for  the  adjacent  smaller 
posts  may  be  drawn,  so  that  the  diligent  reader  may  command 
new  books  from  time  to  time.  Then,  too,  there  comes  once 
or  twice  during  the  winter  season  a  red-letter  day,  upon  which 
the  mail  arrives,  bringing  a  long  list  of  letters  to  be  answered, 
and  periodicals  from  the  outer  world.  As  in  the  remote 
northern  posts  the  mail  has  been  a  year  upon  the  way,  the  file 
of  newspapers  is  laid  carefully  away,  each  number  being  pro- 
duced and  read  as  its  date,  one  year  after  publication,  is 
reached.  In  the  answering  of  letters  considerable  difficulty 
is  experienced  from  the  absence  of  anything  new  to  write 
about.  To  obviate  this  and  produce  the  requisite  novelty, 
the  writer  generally  succeeds  in  composing  a  single  letter 
having  the  desired  degree  of  spiciness.  This  he  copies  and 
sends  to  all  those  friends  whom  he  is  desirous  of  placing  under 
the  obligation  of  an  answer.  Thus,  for  many  days  after  the 
arrival  of  a  mail,  occupation  for  the  long  evenings  is  easily 
found,  until  the  returning  dog-train  bears  his  correspondence 
away,  and  with  it  that  method  of  passing  time. 

Parties  not  studiously  inclined  often  pass  their  spare  hours 


LIFE  IN  A  COMPANY'S  FORT. 


103 


,1  • 


in  exercising  their  skill  upon  one  of  the  musical  instruments. 
Of  these  the  violin,  on  account  probably  of  its  portable  nature, 
is  most  ordinarily  selected,  and  the  votary,  after  a  series  of 
years  passed  in  sedulous  practice,  usually  attains  a  certain 
ghastly  facility  of  execution.  So  common  an  accomplishment 
indeed  is  fiddle-playing  in  the  service,  that  violin-strings  are 
annually  forwarded  as  a  part  of  the  regular  outfit  for  sale  in 
the  northern  districts.  Under  the  inspiration  of  this  instru- 
ment, it  is  scarcely  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  few  holidays  of 
the  year,  and  frequently  the  long  evenings  also,  should  be  en- 
livened with  dances,  in  which  all  the  dusky  maidens  within 
hailing-distance  of  the  fort  participate.  It  is  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  this  pastime  that  the  wearied  clerk  finds  his  chief  de- 
light ;  and  he  jigs  and  reels  the  hours  away  to  the  measures 
of  monotonous  and  oft-repeated  tunes.  On  such  occasions 
the  company  is  cosmopolitan  to  a  striking  degree,  and  all 
grades  of  employes  mingle  on  terms  of  the  most  democratic 
equality. 

With  such  simple  pleasures  and  in  the  discharge  of  such 
duties,  the  life  of  the  isolated  community  glides  uneventfully 
away.  If  its  amusements  are  few,  they  are  at  least  innocent 
and  improved  to  the  utmost.  Few  temptations  to  wrong- 
doing are  presented  to  their  solitary  lives.  Each  succeeding 
year  adds  to  the  accumulations  of  the  last,  until,  in  the  early 
afternoon  of  life,  the  company's  officer  finds  himself  possessed 
of  abundant  means  to  pass  the  remainder  of  his  days  under 
more  genial  conditions.  But,  strange  to  say,  it  almost  invari- 
ably happens  that  his  old  life  has  so  grown  upon  him,  so  en- 
tirely possessed  him,  that  the  charms  of  a  higher  civilization 
have  no  power  to  attract.     We  have  seen  many  bid   a  final 


^  I 


I  ^'t 


104 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAXD. 


farewell  to  the  inhospitable  regions  where  the  best  years  of 
their  lives  had  been  spent,  with  the  purpose  of  returning  to 
their  early  homes  to  pass  the  decline  of  life  ;  but  one  after 
another  they  drifted  back  again.  The  change  was  too  abrupt. 
They  had  outlived  their  former  friends  ;  their  ways  of  life 
were  radically  different ;  in  short,  the  great  busy  world  moved 
all  too  fast  for  their  quiet  and  placid  lives. 


\\ 


W 

1 J 

■  Hi 

^pHHraljl 

ii 

Ms  . 

1  ;■  '.-. 

LIFE  IN  A  COMPANY'S  FORT. 


105 


'i 


5* 


wmmmt 


wmmmmmmmmm 


m 


1     k 


V 


i 


^^^  V  ^  .\^  \^v  ^A\^>  \\\m\  \\\\\\\\  \m 

^  ^  vA^/n  ;Nk\\\^  ^Wik^^WM^^^iW^i^- 

i- 

W*v    ■    -^    ■     •    V  ##j*  H^  ^v«>?^f^  K^\^y^^yss^^    \^  \vA^ 


1 1 


Ir      / 


il  nH  iif^  f'Hi'lliHilf^ 


\Hi 


(mull)  ■  II  m^  Ww 


ill  iii, 


'  / 


.  Ill}  H-lllill  IIIh  ku0f\i  hiii^^iih  iifh  h 

ilii'  Kill  iM  liHiiJlf  f/f  ll/ii 


IH 


f,M 


<l» 


llMiilHi  HlHi*  iI'MNII  /ll(^^'  ('MM  f//il/(/l"'    -  '  -  ' 

m  ti  HidiiilHit  iMili^fiildii  Hf  Wii^iiihh^  iiimiil  0i<^ 
\\{  I'liliJIiiH  HiiliiifiiNl  mii  0ilMi    H  iiHti^  ^Him  at  n:  ^    ' 
Ijimii^h    lh'fiiil>  \\\  \M\m  ^\\\\  ikw  Ihi  iififi  ^     v//  ^  ////^^ 
liiiiii  hHi  !  Imi  t^li^^ii  \m  liim  hmi  ih  iih  nUH\\^m^,ii  fif^m 
HMilltiiij  mill  ^i^wmm,  niHi  iiiiiiuhiin 

liii:  :  ,|  i,   ff^  ((iHflff^lvM^i  a  ililiiHhifJMf  ■/  I     ng 

Kiiik  iinIim  h<mh  fiMirtil  iimhat  ^m\mUi  hutn  -•''''■  fm^ti^ 

HllMJihHllMll  ilvHI  ♦!(/*  i({f,</0,  iiii^H  Hiiiht  Iflh/ink        i  h"',!'  iN^^^M 
iVhHHMl    \\\H  ih^Hhk  Hi   ^HhlHilih  %^hU^f  ^iHHt^m^M  fHif 

\\\m\  HI  iliH  \\\m\i  rin/l  thtfhiiihti  iimfi^  imn"'  ''  ■ 
»<huInI  «vi!ji  fHiN^JN.    in  jiiaih hi  M/A  Hi^tmnti  I  ■    '  '-^4 
«hmIi,  llinji  ♦^Hf»  lo//f<H  IwMi^f  f/^l^#y  l«  ^Mf^^  i<^*M  #?-./,,{  >i,m 
IKh  li!i^«j  \mM  m^\  (\ii\iiNi,  NitihMH^  fCtpi*  mfliMr^^'f 

IihhIih 

II  llin  thHtrt0ftf  W^th  UiiU  \it>»ht^,iiti»('Hf,  tit'  ji.r*.  ,f  ^f^ 
iiltHVh  fli»«  tHwthim  iH'lj^fOi  #H^  1)^^^  ^/'^fM  Umn^f  t^i<i0f  ^4 
\\w  (ilti)il«lnHl  fM  isfh>  nuitjiihht^tiff^  tiftd  »Hfff^'i*>M^  fh^  a/m*^ 
U\  \\\\\m\  It  .'j'H-'ilH  MdlHMy /yf  ftnfHf  ht-ii'ttfH 'Ht  ^  «*'/^. 


io8 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


Xu 


brown  ;  eyes  black,  and  long  black  hair  hanging  down  in  a 
straight  mass  over  his  shoulders.  He  wore  a  tasseled  cap, 
and  was  also  en  capote^  but  of  fine  blue  cloth  ornamented  with 
two  rows  of  silver-gilt  buttons  ;  variegated  sash,  corduroy 
trousers,  and  moccasins,  of  course. 

As  a  rule,  the  voyageins  are  of  French  origin,  descendants 
of  the  traders  and  trappers  of  the  old  fur-companies,  though 
by  long  intermarriage  the  blood  of  three  or  four  nationali- 
ties mingles  in  their  veins.  Their  grandfathers  have  been 
French-Canadian,  their  grandmothers  Cree  squaws  ;  English, 
and  Crow,  and  Ojibway,  have  contributed  to  their  descent  on 
the  mother's  side.  This  mixture  has  produced,  in  most  in- 
stances, a  genial,  good-humored,  and  handsome  fellow ; 
although,  as  a  class,  with  some  cleverness  and  cheerfulness, 
their  faces  generally  betray  a  certain  moodiness  of  temper, 
and  lack  the  frank  and  honest  respectability  stamped  upon 
countenances  more  purely  Anglo-Saxon.  Swarthy  in  com- 
plexion, with  dark  hair  and  eyes,  their  features  are  genei'ally 
good  and  aquiline  in  character ;  and,  though  sometimes 
coarse,  are  invariably  well-proportioned.  Physically  they  are 
a  fine  race ;  tall,  straight,  and  well-proportioned,  lightly 
formed  but  strong,  and  extremely  active  and  enduring.  Of 
more  supple  build,  as  a  rule,  than  the  Indian,  they  combine 
his  endurance  and  readiness  of  resource  with  the  greater 
muscular  strength  and  perseverance  of  the  white  man. 

In  disposition  they  are  a  merry,  light-hearted  and  obliging 
race,  recklessly  generous,  hospitable  and  extravagant.  When 
idle,  they  spend  much  of  their  time  in  singing,  dancing,  and 
gossiping   from    house   to   house,    getting   drunk    upon    the 


A    VOYAGE   WITH  THE   VOYAGEURS. 


109 


slightest  occasion  ;  and  when  the  vogageur  drinks,  he  does 
it,  as  he  says,  comme  il  faut — that  is,  until  he  obtains  the  de- 
sired happiness  of  complete  intoxication.  Vanity  is  his 
besetting  sin,  and  he  will  deprive  himself  and  his  family  of 
the  common  necessaries  of  life  to  become  the  envied  pos- 
sessor of  any  gewgaw  that  may  attract  his  fancy.  Intensely 
superstitious,  and  a  firm  believer  in  dreams,  omens  and  warn- 
ings, he  is  an  apt  disciple  of  the  Romish  faith.  Completely 
under  the  influence  of  his  priest,  in  most  respects,  and  ob- 
serving the  outward  forms  of  his  religion  with  great  regular- 
ity, he  is  yet  grossly  immoral,  often  dishonest,  and  generally 
untrustworthy.  No  sense  of  duty  seems  to  actuate  his  daily 
life  ;  for,  though  the  word  "  devoir  "  is  frequently  on  the  lips 
of  this  semi-Frenchman,  the  principle  of  "  devoir  "  is  not  so 
strong  in  his  heart  as  are  the  impulses  of  passion  and  caprice. 
But  little  aptitude  for  continuous  labor,  moreover,  belongs  to 
his  <:onstitution.  No  man  will  labor  more  cheerfully  and 
gallantly  at  the  severe  toil  pertinent  to  his  calling ;  but  these 
efforts  are  of  short  duration,  and  when  they  are  ended,  his 
chief  desire  is  to  do  nothing  but  eat,  drink,  smoke  and  be 
merry — all  of  them  acts  in  which  he  greatly  excels. 

The  ceremony  of  taking  a  wife,  by  which  this  mercurial 
race  sprang  into  existence  in  the  old  days  of  the  fur-trade, 
cannot  be  considered,  in  the  light  of  the  present  day,  as  an 
elaborate  performance,  or  one  much  encumbered  with  social 
and  religious  preliminaries.  If  it  failed  in  literally  fulfilling 
the  condition  of  force  implied  in  the  word  "  taking,"  it 
usually  degenerated  into  a  mere  question  of  barter.     When 


no 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


illi'l 


the  French-Canadian  wanted  a  wife,  he  took  a  horse,  a  gun, 
some  white  cloth  or  beads,  and,  repairing  to  the  lodge  of  his 
red  brother  in  the  wilderness,  purchased  the  heart  and  hand 
of  the  squaw  he  desired  from  her  stern  parent.  If  she  did 
not  love  after  "  these  presents,"  the  lodge-poles  were  always 
handy  to  enforce  that  obedience  necessary  to  domestic  tran- 
quillity. This  custom,  we  may  say,  has  by  no  means  fallen 
into  disuse,  but  is  still  in  vogue  along  the  border. 

As  a  class,  the  voyageurs  rank  very  low  in  the  country. 
Their  priests  profess  to  have  a  certain  influence  over  them,  but 
admit  that  their  flock  is  disreputable,  and  not  to  be  relied  upon 
in  the  faithful  performance  of  a  contract.  As  a  consequence, 
it  sometimes  happens  that  the  crews  of  a  boat-brigade  mutiny 
during  a  voyage,  and  return  home.  This  evil,  it  is  true, 
might  be  obviated  were  it  not  for  the  system  of  advancing 
wages  for  the  trip,  necessary  in  dealing  with  the  class  of  which, 
for  the  most  part,  the  crews  are  composed.  But,  unfortu- 
nately, on  the  voyagcitrs'  return  from,  the  summer  voyages 
they  do  not  betake  themselves  to  any  special  modes  of  indus- 
try, but  vary  seasons  of  hunting  and  fishing  with  longer  in- 
tervals of  total  idleness.  Toward  mid-winter,  a  steady  per- 
severance in  this  mode  of  life  brings  themselves,  and  their 
equally  improvident  families,  to  a  condition  closely  allied  to 
starvation.  When,  about  the  middle  of  December,  the  books 
SiXQ  opened  at  the  company's  offices  for  the  enrollment  of  men 
to  serve  in  the  trips  of  the  ensuing  season,  a  general  rush  of 
the  needy  crowd  takes  place.  Upon  their  acceptance  and  en- 
rollment, a  small  advance  is  made;  and  afterward,  at  stated 


A    VOYAGE   WITH  THE   VOYAGEURS. 


Ill 


intervals  before  the  beginning  of  the  voyage,  further  sums  are 
paid.  Toward  spring,  however,  when  the  difficulty  of  obtain- 
ing food  lessens  in  some  degree,  the  men  assume  a  higher 
tone,  and  demand  larger  sums  in  advance  ;  threatening  that, 
if  their  demands  are  not  complied  with,  they  will  not  proceed 
upon  the  voyage  al  all.  Counter  threats  of  imprisonment  are 
superciliously  smiled  away  with  the  remark  that  the  time  will 
be  more  easily  passed  in  durance  than  in  labor.  The  result 
is,  that  when  the  day  of  embarkation  arrives,  some  of  the  en- 
rolled men  do  not  appear,  while  those  who  do  have  already 
received  half  their  wages.  Once  on  the  voyage,  their  wives 
and  families  draw  as  frequently  as  practicable  upon  the 
amount  "  still  coming  to  them,"  so  that  the  sum  forfeited  by 
mutiny  and  breach  of  contract  is  insufficient  to  ••estrain  the 
men  from  a  premature  return. 

The  continuance  of  this  system  has  been  caused  by  the 
necessities  of  the  men,  whom  it  preserves  from  absolute  star- 
vation, and  the  undoubted  fact  that  the  laborious  nature  of 
the  service  renders  it  difficult,  if  not  impossible,  to  secure 
men  in  the  spring,  when  many  other  opportunities  exist  of 
gaining  a  livelihood  in  other  and  less  trying  channels. 

It  is  customary  to  distribute  a  small  quantity  of  rum 
among  the  men  immediately  before  starting,  and  this,  together 
with  the  probably  considerable  amount  previously  surrepti- 
tiously obtained,  materially  increased  the  hilarity  and  excite- 
ment of  our  departure.  The  Pierres  became  gratuitously 
profuse  in  their  farewells,  returning  again  and  again  to  clasp 
the  hands  of  the  entire  assembly,  and  claiming  every  one  as  a 


m 

«.-    1      4 

i   ■  \\\ 

rns 


\12 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


brother ;  the  Antoines,  violently  gesticiilative,  declaimed  with 
cheerful  irrelevance  sonie  old  i/ianson  about  the  glory  of  their 
ancestors  ;  while  the  Baptistes  hung,  limply  lachrymose,  u[ion 
the  necks  of  their  best  friends,  murmuring  maudlin  sentiment 
into  their  receptive  ears.  Here  and  there,  sober,  and  with  an 
air  of  vast  importance,  stalked  a  sturdy  steersman,  getting  his 
men  well  in  hand,  and  having  an  eye  to  the  lading  of  his  par- 
ticular boat.  llusy  clerks  and  voluble  porters  vied  with 
chatting,  laughing  women  in  augmenting  the  Babel  of  sound. 

All  things  being  at  last  ready,  the  boat  of  the  guide  swung 
into  the  si:ream,  followed  closely  by  the  others  in  single  file. 
Vociferous  cheers  greeted  us  from  the  well-lined  banks,  and 
the  wild  boat-songs  of  the  7'(m/s,v///w,  sung  in  full  chorus,  began 
— a  weird  but  pleasing  melody.  Steadily  the  oars  were  plied, 
and  regularly  the  beat  and  rhythn\  of  oar-lock  and  song  re- 
sounded, until,  sweeping  round  a  projecting  headland,  fort 
and  friends  were  lost  to  view. 

The  lower  course  of  the  Red  River  of  the  North  presents, 
for  the  last  thirty  miles,  a  picture  of  grand  simplicity,  and,  it 
must  be  confessed,  monotony,  which,  raagnificent  as  it  ap- 
pears, wearies  the  eye  a.id  tires  the  mind  at  last.  Flowing, 
like  all  other  prairie-streams,  deep  below  the  surface  of  the 
plain,  there  is  nothing  to  be  seen  but  the  dead  calm  of  an  un- 
ruffled, mirror-like  sheet  of  water  glaring  in  the  sun,  and,  as 
far  as  the  eye  can  reach,  two  walls  of  dark-green  foliage  with 
the  deep-blue  firmament  above  them.  In  the  foreground,  slen- 
der stems  of  cotton-wood  and  gigantic  oaks,  with  long  fes- 
toons of  moss  hanging  from  their  aged  limbs,  dip  down  into 


A    VOYAGE   WITH  THE   VOYAGEURS. 


"3 


the  turl)i(l  flood.  No  hill  breaks  the  finely-indented  line  of 
foli.ige,  which  everywhere  hounds  the  horizon  ;  only  here  and 
there  a  half-breed's  hut,  or  the  tepee  of  some  child  of  the  prai- 
rie and  stream,  peeps  out  of  the  green.  Happily,  the  novelty 
of  a  first  voyage  by  boat-brigade  was  sufficient  to  engross  the 
attention  of  the  traveler,  and  attract  his  thoughts  from  the 
magnificent  panorama  offered  by  Nature,  to  the  vignette  of 
northern  boat-life  embraced  within  the  limits  occupied  by  the 
eight  boats  speeding  their  way  down  the  centre  of  the  broad 
stream. 

The  comparatively  limited  season  during  which  water 
tranportation  is  available  in  the  Fur  Land  ;  the  nature  of  the 
cargoes  to  be  transported,  and  the  channels  through  which 
they  must  pass,  render  the  strictly  summer  months  a  season 
of  much  bustle  and  activity.  The  loss  of  a  few  days  in  the 
departure  of  boats,  destined  for  the  interior,  may  deprive 
some  important  district  of  the  means  of  traffic  for  the  ensuing 
year,  and  necessitate  the  holding  over  of  immense  stocks  of 
goods,  to  the  serious  derangement  of  trade,  and  a  heavy  cur- 
tailment of  the  annual  profits.  The  matter  of  transportation, 
then,  is  one  of  vital  importance  to  the  fur-company,  and  is 
conducted  with  a  care  and  system  devoted,  perhaps,  to  no 
other  branch  of  a  trade  in  which  close  attention  to  details 
and  routine  are  distinguishing  characteristics.  Though  the  ac- 
tual duties  of  freighting  occupy  but  about  four  months  in  the 
year,  yet  the  preparation  pertinent  to  its  perfect  performance 
engrosses  to  a  great  extent  the  remaining  eight.  The  result  is 
a  system  so  perfect  that  over  the  long  courses  traversed  by 


!     i 


■^m 


114 


r//£  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


the  boat-brig;ides  their  arrival  may  be  calnUated  upon  ahiiost 
to  the  hour  ;  and  the  anxious  trader  may  ascend  his  lookout 
post  with  the  certainty  of  seeing,  sweeping  round  the  nearest 
point,  the  well-laden  boats,  with  swarthy  crews  bending  low 
to  their  oars,  and  singing  their  weird  chansons  in  time  to  the 
measured  oar-stroke. 

The  freighting  season  begins  about  the  first  week  in  June, 
M-hen  the  ice  has  disappeared  from  the  rivers,  and  the  spring 
supplies  of  merchandise,  destined  for  the  interior,  have 
reached  the  depot-forts.  At  that  period,  the  advance  brigade 
of  seven  or  eight  boats  leaves  Fort  Garry — now  the  principal 
point  of  forwarding  in  the  service — followed  a  week  later  by 
yet  another.  This  interval  is  allowed  in  order  to  prevent  the 
meeting  of  the  boats  at  any  post,  thereby  creating  undue 
bustle  and  confusion.  These  boats  tend  north  and  northwest, 
toward  Methy  Portage  and  York  Factory,  there  to  meet  other 
brigades  from  the  remote  arctic  regions,  to  whom  they  deliver 
their  cargoes,  receiving  in  exchange  the  furs  brought  down 
from  the  interior  posts — the  proceeds  of  the  year's  trade. 
When  this  exchange  is  effected,  each  brigade  retraces  its 
course.  The  time  occupied  by  the  longest  trip — that  of 
Methy  Portage,  the  height  of  land  from  which  the  waters 
flow  into  Hudson's  Bay  and  the  Arctic  Ocean — is  about  four 
months.  Numerous  shorter  trips  are  also  made,  and  the 
whole  country  is  alive  during  this  season  with  advancing  and 
returning  boats. 

The  peculiar  nature  of  the  transportation  service  of  the 
company  necessitates  certain  conditions  in  freight,  boats  and 


/t    VOYAGE   WITH  THE  VOYAGEUKS, 


nS 


boatmen  pertaining  to  it,  not  elsewhere  to  be  found.  The 
entire  water-carriage  of  the  country  is  performed  by  means  of 
what  are  technically  called  "  inland  boats,"  of  three  and  a  half 
tons'  burden,  and  recjuiring  nine  men  as  crew.  Of  the  shape 
of  the  ordinary  whale-boat,  they  carry  a  small  mastj  unstepped 
at  will,  upon  which  in  crossing  lakes,  should  the  wind  prove 
favorable,  a  square  sail  is  set.  A  small  i)latform.  or  deck, 
covers  the  stern  of  the  vessel,  upon  which  is  seated  the  steers- 
man, using  at  times  the  ordinary  rudder-lever;  again,  a  long 
sweep,  with  one  stroke  of  which  the  direction  of  the  craft  is 
radically  changed.  The  steersman  is  captain  of  the  vessel, 
the  eight  men  under  him  being  ranged  as  middle-men,  or 
rowers.  A  number  of  these  boats  constitute  a  brigade,  over 
which  a  guide,  skilled  in  the  intricacies  of  current  and  coast, 
is  placed,  and  who  may  be  regarded  as  the  commodore  of  the 
fleet.  His  duty  is  to  guide  the  brigade  through  dangerous 
waters,  to  support  the  authority  of  the  steersmen,  and  to 
transact  the  business  of  the  brigade  at  the  stations  touched 
en  route.  The  position  is  an  important  one  when  properly 
filled,  and  is  generally  held  by  the  same  person  until  advanc- 
ing years  necessitate  his  relinquishment. 

Rapidly  we  sped  down  the  waters  of  the  turbid  stream, 
and  monotonously  echoed  the  loud  "  ough  "  of  the  boatmen, 
as  they  rose  from  their  seats  with  each  stroke  of  the  oar,  only 
to  sink  back  again  with  a  sudden  jar  as  the  broad  blades  left 
the  water.  Stately  swans  looking  thoughtfully  into  the  stream, 
tall  cranes  standing  motionless  on  one  leg,  and  ducks  of  every 
hue  disappearing  behind  the  foliage  screening  the  mouth  of 


■    ii 

1    ■    3' 


I  i  i 


ii6 


r//E  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


some  creek  or  coolie,  were  the  only  living  things  to  be  seen. 
The  landscape  was  monotonously  splendid,  and  the  hours 
passed  in  unvarying  succession.  Ten  minutes  in  every  hour 
were  allowed  the  hardy  voyageurs  for  rest  ;  the  long  oars 
were  lifted  from  the  flood,  from  every  fire-bag  came  pipes  and 
tobacco,  and  the  bark  of  the  grey  willow,  mingled  with  equal 
proportions  of  the  Indian  weed,  lent  its  fragrance  to  the  morn- 
ing air.  After  such  pleasant  interlude,  the  paddles  were 
plied  with  renewed  vigor,  and  soon  the  woods  disappeared 
and  the  banks,  which  gradually  sank  to  a  lower  level,  became 
covered  with  the  long  reedy  grass  marking  the  delta  of  the 
stream.  Further  on,  even  the  semblance  of  vegetation  af- 
forded by  the  reeds  ceased  abruptly,  leaving  naught  but  a 
sandy  bar,  submerged  at  high  tide,  and  the  waters  of  an  im- 
mense lake  extending  northward  out  of  sight — a  lake  which 
stretched  away  into  unseen  places,  and  on  whose  waters  a 
fervid  June  sun  was  playing  strange  freaks  of  mirage  and 
inverted  shore-land. 

Upon  the  sand-bar  at  the  outlet  of  the  main  channel  our 
boats  were  run  along-shore,  and  preparations  ensued  for  the 
mid-day  meal.  Generally  speaking,  while  voyaging  it  is  only 
allowable  to  put  ashore  for  breakfast,  a  cold  dinner  being 
taken  in  the  boats  ;  but  as  no  voyageur  could  be  expected  to 
labor  in  his  holiday-apparel,  a  halt  was  necessary  before  set- 
ting out  upon  the  lake. 

The  low  beach  yielded  ample  store  of  driftwood,  the  relics 
of  many  a  northern  gale,  and  of  this  a  fire  was  lighted,  and 
the  dinner  apparatus  arranged  in  the  stern-sheets  of  the  boat. 


Ml!!-t--   .M 


A   VOYAGE   WITH  THE   VOYAGE URS. 


117 


The  functions  of  the  c/ie/f  limited  to  the  preparation  of  pern- 
mican  in  some  palatable  form,  and  the  invariable  dish  of  black 
tea,  were  simple  enough.  For  boatmen  pemmican  is  the  un- 
alterable bill-of-fare,  and  is  the  favorite  food  of  the  half-breed 
and  Indian  voyageur.  The  best  form  of  pemmican,  made 
for  table  use,  generally  has  added  to  it  ten  pounds  of  sugar 
per  bag,  and  saskootoom  or  service  berries — the  latter  acting 
much  as  currant  jelly  does  with  venison,  correcting  thegreasi- 
ness  of  the  fat  by  a  slightly  acid  sweetness.  Sometimes  wild 
cherries  are  used  instead  of  the  saskootoom.  This  berry-pem- 
mican  is  considered  the  best  of  its  kind,  and  is  very  palatable. 

As  to  the  appearance  of  the  commoner  form  of  pemmican, 
take  the  scrapings  from  the  driest  outside  corner  of  a  very 
stale  piece  of  cold  roast-beef,  add  to  it  lumps  of  tallowy,  ran- 
cid fat,  then  garnish  all  with  long  human  hairs,  on  which 
string  pieces,  like  beads  upon  a  necklace,  and  short  hairs  of 
dogs  or  oxen,  or  both,  and  you  have  a  fair  imitation  of  com- 
mon pemmican.  Indeed,  the  presence  of  hairs  in  the  food 
has  suggested  the  inquiry  whether  the  hair  on  the  buffaloes 
from  which  the  pemmican  is  made  does  not  grow  on  the  in- 
side of  the  skin.  The  abundance  of  small  stones  or  pebbles 
in  pemmican  also  indicates  the  discovery  of  a  new  buffalo  diet 
heretofore  unknown  to  naturalists. 

Carefully  made  pemmican,  flavored  with  berries  and  sugar, 
is  nearly  good  ;  but  of  most  persons  new  to  the  diet  it  may 
be  said  that,  in  two  senses,  a  little  of  it  goes  a  long  way. 
Nothing  can  exceed  its  sufficing  quality  ;  it  is  equal  or  supe- 
rior to  the  famous  Prussian  sausage,  judging  of  it  as  we  must. 


ii8 


THE  CREA  T  EUK  l.AXD. 


Two  pounds'  weight,  with  bread  and  tea,  is  enough  for  the 
dinner  of  eight  hungry  men.  A  bag  weighing  one  hundred 
pounds,  then,  woidd  supply  three  good  meals  for  one  hundred 
and  thirty  men.  A  sledge-dog  that  will  eat  from  four  to  six 
pounds  of  fish  per  day,  when  at  work,  will  only  consume  two 
pounds  of  pemmican,  if  fed  upon  that  food  alone.  Hungry 
men  are  often  seen  to  laugh  incredulously  at  a  small  handful 
of  pemmican  placed  before  them  as  suflTicient  for  a  meal ;  yet 
they  go  away  satisfied,  leaving  half  of  it.  On  the  other  hand, 
half-breeds  and  Indians  will  eat  four  i)ounds  of  it  in  a  single 
day  ;  appetites  like  that,  however,  do  not  count  in  ordinary 
food  estimates. 

The  flavor  of  pemmican  depends  much  on  the  fancy  of 
the  person  eating  it.  There  is  no  other  article  of  food  that 
bears  the  slightest  resemblance  to  it,  and  as  a  consequence  it 
is  difficult  to  define  its  peculiar  flavor  by  comparison.  It  may 
be  prepared  for  the  table  in  many  different  ways,  the  con- 
sumer being  at  full  liberty  to  decide  which  is  the  least  objec- 
tionable. The  method  largely  in  vogue  among  the  voyagcurs 
is  that  known  as  "  pemmican  straight,"  that  is,  uncooked. 
But  there  are  several  ways  of  cooking  which  improve  its 
flavor  to  the  civilized  palate.  There  is  rnhciboo,  which  is  a 
composition  of  potatoes,  onions,  or  other  esculents,  and  pem- 
mican, boiled  up  together,  and,  when  |^r  perly  seasoned,  very 
palatable.  In  the  form  of  richot^  hrvv.ver,  pemmican  is  best 
liked  by  persons  who  use  it,  and  by  the  voyagcurs.  Mixed 
with  a  little  flour  and  fried  in  a  pan,  pemmican  in  this  form 
can  be  eaten,  provided  the  appetite  be  sharp,  and  there  is 


1(1 


A    VOYAGE   ll'/T/f   THE   VOYAGE UFS. 


119 


I«d 


TA^A  r.A'A\l  r  f  i  A'  l,A,Vt>. 


■'',.  Si 


i-l 


\\\\\\(^'\<\  A^x\  VHx^  WuW  \s\\\  \S\\  \\\t  rthN  \vhr>vvtM  !%  ih\  itiHn 

^ir^  tVftt,  with  \NNthM\  hA«\^ktM\^^^<ofs  tiiM  MiKNV-trtuhiou  \in\u*l 
t>4iM'r  sA'ArtK)  <>tN  lv\  hSN^  i^H^u  ^>U-^\x*'  {  rt  soavUh  xrtsh  f  nt'ihU^i^ 

*#H.  Th'C'n  WAtt\<n'*s?!t""s  \\v\v  x^'s  Vviv\\>\\s  rt-s  IrtUi  ifyO — some 
tro?*(?A  K>  tK<^t  t^hh^Uy-nv-^UxN^  h^iv  tx>  g\»A^\<  \\\^\\\  S\\s\\\  the 
st«f\  jnftti  vaM  ^  'SAmt"  xsv^^ii?  i"^Ns  \si  t^vitice  cloth,  ot)\c\-s  (wisi^tJ 
*v>kvr<\i  ki-^ivhkMs  turK^n-t^Ashion  nN«nv\  thoii  hci<v\» :   while 

mith  tAssols  A«<^  t'tNftihoi-^i  »^s  U"»  tvp  strttxnMy  itH^ognizahltv 
ThcY  w<^T<c  A  wiki  x-^t  hv<>«visomo  sot  ot  «\o\^  ,15  thoy  \a\  or 
s^<»^d  m  cAT-^^I^WBS  ^ttinulos  i\>u«d  the  iuvn  ^mthng  oK^uds  of 

At  The  o<v«m«n*i  <yf  tho  ^udc,  hv^\vo^•or,  they  foil  to  re» 


'  K'4 


A  hi\\ut/r  n'ftN  i'tft^.  hi\'^nki>tf.'i. 


m 


(ittti  ilif  |inilttRf"?  litiitU'Hiitlfl)'   Uf^(s\u\.     ¥h^  nu  ihh  wai^'tn 

Ity  tiililfh,  wi(l»'>fiill«t  find  it\Uniii\H,  \h  >iitmuiiin\  «vl(l/|(  ff(f 
•lumln  wHI)  lliflt  >  rtf^i^Mj'H  (iMve  Im  )«*"  Irtft/l^l  rtMd  f  rtfflH)  wtmt^ 
\\U'  itltqKtitllHM,  ♦»!  I"'  ^r«)rtllM^ll^<t  m(  fl(f  hK'(^^«f  |<frtrf)^rtM<»! 
jmlnl.  A^^rtlli  If  mfiitt  llnil  m  lir-lKJit  'if  l/fMft  h  tcnth^tlf 
flr'H««»»  wltltji  lln»  liMfih  iiml  hip  k  lirttiMI'tf'  ftt(/<»f  !<*;  /1frtj<(<^<l  \ti 
DUlpf-  In  tW"<»f'ii«l  llu'  ()t)|i(»ilfp  nft'pHfft  fn  f-lfli*-?  »'v<^Hf  fhe 
jifm'pM  Is  tejiiiilcfilly  kitnwh  hi  "  »<i(tl?lf(>^  ,<<  |»'>H((k^"  ntitli  ttth' 
slll(il»'«  llip  ItrtHlt'Bl  ft^iiliih'  »if  llif*  t'tipf^ffff'f  Uihtit. 

Il  h  ttwlii)^  In  lli«»  Vrt«tl  rt»MM((»il  of  iirt()/l(M(j(,  /»«^Ms(f«f<^/| 
liy  llic  miiMffiMifl  |Mi(l(iK»'M  iiilf^vfftlM^  luM'tef^h  tf»«  df  j/of  f//tN 
iiiiil  (Vt'ii  llif  hpfih'fll  ImImiuI  rlhlij'  lq,  lli/d  fli^  |;»/  kifjj^  tff  tmt- 
rhrthtlN^  lipcomrR  M  »ii«IIm  /if  lo  ^r^xl  iff(|/orfrtnrf.  'thfi 
Bltutilitnl  wt'lylil  of  out  II  )»;(»  kit^f?  f(«»f«<1  lf»  fl»>»  f((f-frfld^  If  <)t»« 
ItiMttlictl  |Miii(nlfl,  hihI  pnih  )»o«l  h  »f(|>)/o3^/l  rfl|/rtf/l^  tff  tuti- 
IrtiniiiM  Movehly-fivp  "ImIiomI  |;ifr»>«i,"  ««)  wrr.h  j>fl/ kjtt^^sii  are 
rrtllt*cl.  It  l«  llin  iiuMliod  of  iiuV(tu\u^i,  [iinmi\t,h  \r,  ih*^  ttfilft- 
tty.  riu'  fill  lliiy  wllli  wlii»  I:  siirh  pier.es  rtfe  handiest  fry  fhft 
miiRinliir  iii|MM(ii  Im  v^fy  fi^mttfkfil/le— fl  boat  hcloj^  loade^J 
hy  ItB  « it'W  of  f'ih'  I'M  .;/  i)ve  mlmite»,  fflf»<1  j»fe»ef»fin((  a 
Iiml.  onleHy  fl|ii|>"6!n -tii;  upon  r,om|/letlon  of  th«  (4»er«tk/n, 

In  c  ronsittH  i:  pf;' Uf ,e,  eanh  boatman  i»  %{ipyfw*i  io  b« 
cqiijil  In  Ilic  task  lA  f  a ryln«  two  Inland  p'men  itp(m  rti%  hsttM, 
'I'lioHc  IoiuIb  arc  (aiiiro'  in  snrji  ii  manner  a»  to  fi]U/w  iiw 
whole  HtrcMKtli  of  tlir  body  to  be  put  into  the  work,  A  )>r(r3td 
Icnthc'i'  l)and, '  ailed  a  "  nortrtj^f  htrap,"  j'f  piiiM  ^4  'wir-d  th« 


5:'i 


f  h 


|!  t 


122 


r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


forehead,  the  ends  of  which  strap,  passing  back  over  the 
shoulders,  support  the  pieces  which,  thus  carried,  lie  along 
the  spine  from  the  small  of  the  back  to  the  crown  of  the 
head.  When  fully  loaded,  the  voyageur  stands  with  his  body 
bent  forward,  and  with  one  hand  steadying  the  pieces,  he 
trots  nimbly  away  over  the  steep  and  rock-strewn  portage,  his 
bare  or  nioccasined  feet  enabling  him  to  pass  briskly  over  the 
slippery  rocks  in  places  where  boots  would  inevitably  send 
both  tripman  and  load  feet-foremost  to  the  bottom.  In  the 
frequent  unloading  of  the  vessel,  the  task  of  raising  the  pieces 
and  placing  them  upon  the  backs  of  the  muscular  voyageicrs 
devolves  upon  the  steersman  ;  and  the  task  of  raising  seventy- 
five  packages  of  one  hundred  pounds'  weight  from  a  position 
below  the  feet  to  a  level  with  the  shoulders,  demands  a  greater 
amount  of  muscle  than  is  possessed  by  the  average  man. 

Winnipeg,  like  all  other  great  lakes,  is  liable  to  be  visited 
with  sudden  storms,  which,  taking  a  boat  by  surprise  while 
in  the  process  of  making  a  long  traverse,  might  be  attended 
with  fatal  consequences.  The  coasts,  generally  speaking, 
offer  only  a  limited  number  of  harbors  for  small  boats,  but 
these  fortunately  within  a  few  hours'  sail  of  each  other.  In 
the  event  of  a  boat  being  overtaken  by  a  sudden  tempest,  it 
is  sometimes  necessary  to  make  for  the  nearest  land  and 
**  beach "  her,  carrying  herself  and  cargo  ashore  by  main 
force,  over  a  considerable  length  of  breaker-washed  shore. 

It  was  for  this  reason,  perhaps,  that  our  guide  marched 
solemnly  to  and  fro  upon  the  shingle,  curiously  examining, 
with    twisted    neck    and   upturned    eyes,    the   signs   of   the 


I 


I 


■  fin 

% 


VOYAGE   WITH  THE   VOYAGEURS. 


123 


sited 
,'hile 
ided 

but 
In 
kt,  it 
land 
liain 

Ihed 

the 


weather  ;  and  presenting,  with  his  long  blue  great-coat  and 
cautious  gait,  a  somewhat  quaint  and  antiquated  spectacle. 
Having  with  some  difificulty  satisfied  himself  that  the  weather 
would  hold  good  until  we  could  reach  the  nearest  harbor,  he 
recalled  the  crews — who  had  scattered  along-shore,  smoking 
their  pipes — and  loosed  from  land.  The  lake,  changeful  as 
the  ocean,  was  in  its  very  calmest  mood  ;  not  a  wave,  not 
a  ripple  on  its  surface  ;  not  a  breath  of  air  to  aid  the  untiring 
paddles.  The  guide  held  his  course  far  out  into  the  glassy 
waste,  leaving  behind  the  marshy  headlands  which  marked 
the  river's  delta.  The  point  at  which  we  had  dined  became 
speedily  undistinguishable  among  the  long  line  of  apparently 
exactly  similar  localities  ranging  along  the  low  shore. 

A  long,  low  point  reaching  out  from  the  south  shore 
of  tiie  lake,  was  faintly  visible  on  the  horizon,  and  toward  it 
our  guide  steered.  The  traveler,  seated  comfortably  on  the 
deck  of  the  boat,  indulged  alternately  in  reading  and  smoking  ; 
the  whole  style  of  progress  being  more  like  the  realization  of 
a  scene  from  Telemaque  or  the  .^neid,  than  a  sober  business 
vf  v,  >  undertaken  in  the  interests  of  a  trading  company  of 
th«^  ^yfcsen^:  jay. 

The  red  sun  sank  into  the  lake,  warning  us  to  seek  the 
t>o--:  r.  ^  camp  for  the  night, as  we  reached  the  point  toward 
which  \}j.  steered.  A  deep,  sandy  bay,  with  a  high  background 
of  woods  and  rocks,  seemed  to  invite  us  to  its  solitude.  The 
boats  were  moored  in  a  recess  of  the  bank,  or  drawn  bodily 
upon  the  beach  ;  sails  brought  ashore,  and  roofs  extemporized 
as  protection  against  possible  storms.     Drift-wood  was  again 


I  % 


~s>'j:^ 


l:r\ 


i    1 


■■'  i 


f 


124 


r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


collected,  and  active  preparations  for  the  evening  meal  ensued. 
Each  boat's  crew  had  a  fire  to  itself,  over  which  were  placed 
gypsy-like  tripods,  from  which  huge  tin  kettles  depended  ; 
while  above  them  hovered  numerous  volunteer  cooks,  who 
were  employed  in  stirring  their  contents  with  persevering 
industry.  The  curling  wreaths  of  smoke  formed  a  black 
cloud  among  the  numerous  fleecy  ones  arising  from  the 
steaming  kettles,  while  all  around,  in  every  imaginable  atti- 
tude, sat,  stood,  nd  reclined  the  sunburned  savage-looking 
voyagcursy  laugh'  ting,  and  smoking,  in  perfect  happi- 

ness. 

Meanwhile,  the  bedding  of  the  traveler,  after  being  un- 
wrapped from  its  protecting  oil-cloths,  was  spread  upon  the 
ground.  Bedding  consists  of,  say,  three  blankets  and  a  pil- 
low. The  former  are  folded  lengthways,  and  arranged  on  the 
oil-cloth,  which,  when  camp  is  struck  in  the  morning,  is  so 
rolled  about  them  as  to  form  a  compact,  portable  bundle, 
when  properly  corded,  practically  impervious  to  weather. 

All  occupations  ceased  at  the  call  of  the  cooks,  and  the 
crews  gathered  round  the  camp-fire  with  their  scant  supply  of 
tinware.  The  bill-of-fare  was  limited,  as  before,  to  pemmi- 
can  and  tea.  As  the  brigade  penetrates  the  interior,  however, 
wild-fowl  become  abundant,  and  the  stews  more  fragrant  and 
savory.  Supper  over,  half  a  dozen  huge  log-fires  are  lighted 
round  about,  casting  a  ruddy  glow  upon  the  surrounding  foli- 
age, and  the  wild,  uncouth  figures  of  the  voyageurs,  with  their 
long,  dark  hair  hanging  in  luxuriant  masses  over  their  bronzed 
faces.     They  warm  themselves  in  the  cheerful  glow,  smoking 


.7    VOYAGE   WITH  THE   VOYAGEURS. 


125 


and  chatting  with  much  good-humor  and  carelessness  of  the 
day's  adventures,  or  rather  of  what  are  regarded  as  such — un- 
usual good  or  ill-luck  at  fishing  or  hunting,  the  casual  meet- 
ing of  some  aboriginal  canoe,  or  the  sight  of  some  lone  In- 
dian's leather  lodge.  Only  the  dense  swarms  of  mosquitoes, 
which  set  in  immediately  after  sunset,  remind  the  traveler  that 
he  is  not  realizing  a  scene  from  tropical  life. 

To  be  appreciated,  the  pain  and  inconvenience  caused  by 
the  attacks  of  these  little  insects  must  be  ff  It.  They  swarm 
in  the  woods  and  marshes,  and,  lying  amid  the  shade  of  the 
bushes  during  the  heat  of  the  day,  come  abroad  in  the  cool 
of  the  evening  and  make  night  hideous  where  no  grateful 
breeze  blows  for  the  protection  of  the  traveler.  They  form, 
in  fact,  the  principal  drawback  to  the  pleasure  of  summer 
travel  in  the  Fur  Land.  The  voyageur,  after  working  hard 
through  the  long,  hot  day,  simply  spreads  the  single  blanket 
he  is  allowed  to  carry  on  the  ground,  and  with  no  other  cov- 
ering than  the  starry  firmament  above  him,  sleeps  undisturbed 
till  dawn  ;  only  occasionally  brushing  away,  as  if  by  way  of 
diversion,  the  most  obtrusive  of  the  little  fiends.  But  the 
more  refined  and  less  case-hardened  traveler  suffers  severely. 
In  vain  are  trousers  tied  tightly  about  the  ankles,  and  coat 
sleeves  at  the  wrist,  while  mosquito  veils  surround  the  head. 
The  enemy  finds  his  way  in  single  file  through  apertures  un- 
seen by  human  eyes,  and  bites  without  mercy  ;  while  his 
personal  escape  is  secured  by  the  impossibility  of  hunting 
him  up  without  making  way  for  the  surrounding  hosts  of  his 
confreres.     For  the  victim,  feeding  under  such  circumstances 


i 


nil, 


i"s ;  • 


>! 


;     f 


126 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


is  no  easy  matter.  Independent  of  the  loss  of  appetite  occa- 
sioned by  the  nature  of  the  situation,  the  veil  must  be  removed 
to  obtain  access  to  the  mouth,  and  the  hands  must  be  un- 
covered to  work  knife,  fork,  and  spoon.  Sleep  is  also  to  be 
obtained  only  for  a  few  short,  feverish  moments  at  long  inter- 
vals. Any  attempt  to  gain  repose  by  concealing  one's  self 
beneath  the  blankets  is  in  vain  ;  and  long  before  sleep  can 
come,  the  baffled  experimenter  is  compelled  to  emerge,  half 
smothered,  to  breathe  the  sultry  air. 

The  traveler  can,  however,  often  have  an  awning  fitted  up 
over  the  stern-'^b'^ets  of  the  boat,  and  sleep  on  board.  By 
this  arrangemeiit,  in  the  event  of  a  favorable  breeze  blowing 
at  daybreak,  the  crews  can  pursue  their  journey  without  dis- 
turbing him.  On  f>e  other  hand,  the  traveler  is  often  called 
upon  to  give  up  the  boat  to  the  men  during  the  night,  so  that 
they  may  be  further  removed  from  the  mosquitoes,  and  better 
prepared  for  work  on  the  ensuing  day,  when  the  passenger 
can  make  up  for  the  night's  sleeplessness.  Under  this  system, 
then,  the  steersman  occupies  the  stern-sheets,  while  the  crew, 
by  arranging  the  mast  and  oars  lengthways  over  the  boat,  and 
stretching  oil-cloths  over  the  framework  so  formed,  turn  the 
vessel  into  one  long,  snug  tent,  in  which  they  can  rest  in  com- 
fort. This  device  is  called  a  "  tanley,"  the  word  being  cor- 
rupted from  the  French  *'  tendre-le." 

In  the  early  morning,  before  the  mists  had  risen  from  the 
waters,  the  loud  "  Leve  !  leve  !  leve  !  "  of  the  guide  roused  the 
camp.  Five  minutes  were  sufficient  to  complete  the  trav- 
eler's toilet,  tie  up  his  blankets,  and  embark.     The  prows  of 


A    VOYAGE   WITH  THE   VOYAGEURS, 


127 


the  boat-brigade  swung  into  the  lake,  and  the  day's  voyage 
began.  Usually  a  short  sail  is  made  until  a  favorable  camp- 
ing-spot is  reached,  when  the  boats  are  again  beached,  and 
the  breakfast  prepared.  Then  succeeds  a  renewed  plying  of 
the  oars,  or,  if  the  wind  prove  favorable,  the  sails  are  set,  and 
the  little  fleet  glides  smoothly  upon  its  way.  When  the  wind 
is  fair  and  the  weather  fine,  boats  make  very  long  traverses, 
keeping  so  far  out  that,  about  the  middle  of  the  run,  neither 
the  point  from  which  they  started  nor  the  one  toward  which 
they  are  steering  is  visible.  In  calm  weather,  however,  when 
the  oars  are  used,  it  is  usual  to  keep  closer  in-shore,  and  make 
shorter  traverses.  The  pursuit  of  game  and  wild-fowl,  daily 
indulged  in,  tends  to  vary  the  monotony  of  the  voyage.  Oc- 
casionally the  breeding-places  of  the  latter  are  found,  in  which 
event  the  crews  lay  in  a  stock  of  eggs  and  young  birds  suffi- 
cient for  the  voyage.  Again,  returning  boats  are  encountered, 
and  a  short  season  devoted  to  the  exchange  of  news  and  com- 
pliments. 

The  wind  springing  up,  the  guide  ordered  all  sail  set,  and 
stood  far  out  into  the  lake.  The  boats  of  the  brigade  proving 
very  unequal  sailors,  from  difference  of  build  and  diverse 
lading,  the  white  sails  soon  lost  all  semblance  of  line,  and 
straggled  over  the  placid  waters  of  the  lake,  each  upon  its 
own  tack.  Nor  did  they  meet  again  until  we  entered  the 
mouth  of  Winnipeg  River,  shortly  after  mid-day,  and  prepared 
to  encounter  its  twenty-seven  portages,  the  first  of  which  began 
but  eight  miles  above  the  company's  fort,  at  its  delta. 

The  Winnipeg  River,  with  twice  the  volume  of  water  the 


;^'1l 

i     ! 

■           ,      ■     ;! 

■  i 

.1 

Iw^l 


'"'ill    ' 


I   M 


128 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


Rhine  pours  forth,  descends  three  hundred  and  sixty  feet  in 
a  distance  of  one  hundred  and  sixty  miles.  This  descent  is 
not  effected  by  a  continuous  decline,  but  by  a  series  of  ter- 
races at  irregular  distances  from  each  other,  thus  forming  innu- 
merable lakes  and  wide-spreading  reaches,  bound  together  by 
rapids  and  perpendicular  falls  of  varying  altitudes.  It  was 
over  this  pathway  of  rock  and  stream,  of  terrace  and  lagoon, 
that  the  course  of  the  boat-brigade  now  lay.  To  describe  the 
forcing  of  one  barrier  is  only  to  iterate  that  of  the  one  pre- 
ceding or  following  it. 

Passing  through  lonely  lakes  and  island-siudded  bays, 
there  sounds  ahead  the  rush  and  roar  of  falling  water ;  and, 
rounding  some  pine-clad  island,  or  projecting  point,  a  tum- 
bling mass  of  foam  and  spray,  studded  with  rocks  and  bc.:- 
dered  with  dark-wooded  shores,  bars  the  way.  Above  the 
falls  nothing  can  be  seen  ;  below,  the  waters  boil  in  angry 
surge  for  a  moment,  then  leap  away  in  maddened  flight, 
threatening  to  toss  the  well-laden  boats  like  corks  upon  their 
sweeping  surface.  But  against  this  boiling,  rushing  flood 
comes  the  craft  and  skill  of  the  intrepid  voyageurs.  They 
advance  upon  the  fall  as  if  it  were  an  equally  subtile  enemy 
with  themselves ;  they  steal  upon  it  before  it  is  aware. 
The  immense  volume  of  water,  after  its  wild  leap,  lingers  a 
moment  in  the  huge  cauldron  at  the  foot  of  the  fall ;  then, 
escaping  from  the  circling  eddies  and  whirlpools,  sweeps 
away  in  rushing  flood  into  the  calmer  waters  below. 

But  this  mighty  rush  in  mid-stream  produces  a  counter- 
current  along-shore,  which,  taking  an  opposite  turn,  sweeps 


'  !  I  ! 


y4    VOYAGE   WITH  THE   VOYAGEURS, 


129 


inter- 
weeps 


back  nearly,  if  not  quite,  to  the  foot  of  the  fall.  Into  this 
back-current  the  stealthy  voyagetirs  steer  their  well-laden 
boat.  On  one  side  the  rocky  bank  towers  overhead,  slender 
pine  and  fir-trees  finding  precarious  foothold  in  its  crevices  ; 
on  the  other,  ofttimes  but  a  yard  from  the  advancing  boat, 
sweeps  the  mad  rush  of  the  central  current.  Up  the  back- 
current  goes  the  boat,  driven  cautiously  by  its  oarsmen,  until, 
just  in  advance  of  its  bow,  appears  the  whirlpool  in  which  it 
ends,  at  the  foot  of  the  fall.  To  enter  that  revolving  mass 
of  water  is  to  be  wrecked  in  a  twinkling ;  to  turn  into  the 
broad  current  of  the  mid-stream  is,  apparently,  to  be  swept 
away  in  a  moment  of  time.     What  next  ? 

For  a  moment  there  is  no  paddling,  the  bowsman  aftid 
steersman  alone  keeping  the  boat  in  position,  as  she  rapidly 
drifts  into  the  whirlpool.  Among  the  crew  not  a  word  is  spoken, 
but  every  man  is  at  his  utmost  tension,  and  awaiting  the  in- 
stant which  shall  call  every  muscle,  nerve,  and  intelligence 
into  play.  Now  the  supreme  moment  has  come  ;  for  on  one 
side  begins  the  mighty  rush  of  the  mid-current,  and  on  the 
other  circle  and  twist  the  smooth,  green,  hollowing  curves 
of  the  angry  whirlpool,  revolving  round  its  axis  of  air  with  a 
giant  strength  that  would  overturn  and  suck  down  the  stanch 
whale-boat  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye.  Just  as  the  prow 
touches  the  angry  curves,  a  quick  shout  is  given  by  the  bows- 
man,  and  the  boat  shoots  full  into  the  centre  of  the  rushing 
stream,  driven  by  the  united  efforts  of  the  entire  crew,  supple- 
mented by  extra  oarsmen  from  the  other  boats.     The  men 

work  for  their  very  lives,  and  the  boat  breasts  across  the 
6* 


mil 


-•■!» 


!  i 


130 


T//£  CREA  T  FUK  LAND. 


Stream  full  in  the  face  of  the  fall.  The  waters  foam  and  dash 
around  her ;  the  mad  waves  leap  over  the  gunwale  ;  the  voy- 
ageurs  shout  as  they  dash  their  oars  like  lightning  into  the 
flood  ;  and  the  traveler  holds  his  breath  amidst  this  war  of 
man  against  Nature.  But  the  struggle  seems  useless.  Man 
can  effect  naught  against  such  a  torrent ;  the  boat  is  close 
against  the  rocks,  and  is  driven  down  despite  the  rapid 
strokes  of  the  oarsmen.  For  an  instant  she  pauses,  as  if  gath- 
ering strength  for  her  mad  flight  down  the  mid-channel.  The 
dead  strength  of  the  rushing  flood  seems  to  have  prevailed, 
when,  lo  !  the  whole  thing-  is  done.  A  dexterous  twist  of  the 
oars,  and  the  boat  floats  suddenly  beneath  a  little  rocky  isle 
in  mid-stream,  at  the  foot  of  the  falls.  The  portage-landing 
is  over  this  rock,  while  a  few  yards  out  on  either  side  the 
mighty  flood  sweeps  on  its  headlong  course.  A  voyageur  leaps 
out  on  the  wet,  slippery  rock,  and  holds  the  boat  in  place 
while  the  others  get  out.  The  cool  fellows  laugh  as  they  sur- 
vey the  torrent  they  have  just  defeated,  then  turn  to  carry 
the  freight  piece  by  piece  up  the  rocky  stairway,  and  deposit 
it  upon  the  flat  landing  ten  feet  above.  Thr.t  accomplished, 
the  boat  is  dragged  over,  and  relaunched  upon  the  very  lip  of 
the  fall. 

But  slightly  different  was  the  ascent  of  many  of  the  rapids 
encountered  from  time  to  time.  Upon  arriving  at  one,  ad- 
vantage was  taken  of  the  back-current  near  the  banks  to  run 
up  as  far  as  the  eddy  would  permit ;  then  the  bowsman  rose 
from  his  seat,  and  craned  his  neck  forward  to  take  a  look  be- 
fore attempting  the  passage.     Signaling  the  route  he  intended 


I 


A   1^0  Y AGE   WITH  THE   yOYAGEURS. 


131 


to  pursue  to  the  steersman,  the  boat  at  once  shot  into  tlie 
chaos  of  boiling  waters  that  rushed  swiftly  by.  At  first  it 
was  swept  downward  with  the  speed  of  an  arrow,  while  the 
mad  flood  threatened  to  swamp  it  in  a  moment.  To  the  trav- 
eler, unaccustomed  to  such  perilous  navigation,  it  seemed 
utter  folly  to  attemjjt  tlie  ascent ;  but  a  moment  more 
revealed  the  plan,  and  brought  the  stanch  craft  into  a  tempo- 
rary harbor.  Right  in  the  middle  of  the  central  current  a  huge 
rock  rose  above  the  surface,  while  from  its  base  a  long  eddy 
ran,  like  the  gradually-lessening  tail  of  a  comet,  nearly  a  score 
of  yards  down  the  stream.  It  was  just  opposite  this  rock 
that  the  voyagcurs  had  entered  the  rapid,  and  for  which 
they  paddled  with  all  their  might.  The  current,  sweeping 
them  down,  brought  the  boat  just  to  the  extreme  point  of  the 
eddy  by  the  time  mid-stream  was  reached,  and  a  few  vigor- 
ous strokes  of  the  oars  floated  it  quietly  in  the  lee  of  the 
rock.  A  minute's  rest,  and  the  bowsman  selected  another 
rock  a  few  yards  higher  up,  but  a  good  deal  to  one  side. 
Another  rush  was  made,  and  the  second  haven  reached.  In 
this  way,  yard  by  yard,  the  boat-brigade  ascended  for  miles, 
sometimes  scarcely  gaining  a  foot;  again,  as  a  favoring  bay  or 
curve  presented  a  long  stretch  of  smooth  water,  advancing 
more  rapidly. 

In  rapids  where  the  strength  of  the  current  forbade  ♦^he 
use  of  oars,  progress  was  made  by  means  of  the  trackinj,  ,.,'. 
Tracking,  as  it  is  called,  is  dreadfully  harassing  work.  Half 
the  crew  go  ashore,  and  drag  the  boat  slowly  along,  while  the 
other  half  go  asleep.     After  an  hour's  walk,  the  others  take 


iifi 


'¥ 


-in  'a   I 


II 


IIH! 


132 


T//E  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


their  turn,  and  so  on,  alternately,  during  the  entire  day.  As 
the  banks  about  the  rapids  were  generally  high  and  very  pre- 
cipitous, the  voyagcurs  had  to  scramble  along,  now  close  to 
the  water's  edge,  again  high  up  on  Mie  bank,  on  ledges 
where  they  could  hardly  find  a  footing,  and  where  they  re- 
sembled flies  on  a  wall.  The  banks,  too,  composed  of  soft 
clay  and  mud,  increased  the  labor  of  hauling  ;  but  the  light- 
hearted  voyageurs  seemed  to  think  nothing  of  it,  and  laughed 
and  joked  as  they  toiled  along,  playing  tricks  upon  each 
other,  and  plunging  occasionally  up  to  the  waist  in  mud  and 
water,  with  a  reckless  carelessness  all  their  own. 

So,  day  after  day^  the  boat-brigade  journeyed  on  ;  through 
island-studded  bays,  over  long  reaches  of  limpid  water  whose 
placid  surface  not  a  ripple  stirred,  over  turbid  floods  thick 
with  the  ooze  of  muddy  banks,  breasting  fierce  rapids,  climb- 
ing thundering  waterfalls  ;  sometimes  making  a  fair  day's 
travel,  again,  after  a  day  of  weary  toil,  bivouacking  almost 
within  sight  of  last  night's  camp-fire. 

One  day  the  traveler  became  aware  of  an  undue  bustle 
and  excitement  among  the  swarthy  crews  of  the  brigade. 
The  pointed  prows  were  turned  shoreward  and  run  upon  a 
pebbly  beach,  affording  easy  access  to  the  limpid  water,  and 
facing  the  warm  rays  of  the  sun.  The  voyageurs  brought 
forth  all  the  soiled  clothing  worn  upon  the  journey,  and  a  gen- 
eral scrubbing  took  place.  Soon  the  bushes  in  the  vicinity, 
the  branches  of  the  trees,  and  the  flat  rocks,  bore  plentiful 
burdens  of  gaudy-colored  apparel,  waving  in  the  breeze  to 
dry.     Copious  baths  were  next  administered  to  their  persons, 


A   VOYAGE   WITH  THE   VOVAGEUKS. 


133 


I 


U4 


VV//    (,A'A\/  /•  / CK  /./,\7>, 


ii 


fu.  Ribln^ns  woro  Im.uiKmI  \\\  tho  hiiir,  llnshy  sashes  oMcinlod 
their  w«i»ts,  <nul  in«u «  asins  <»f  lu'wiltU'ring  hoiulwoik  otuasod 
their  feet.  Then,  with  a  tiaxh  ami  wiM  thorns  u(  hoat-sung, 
the  oars  were  plioil  with  (piiikly-iucamneil  slrokr.  Soon  Ihc 
sharp  jUMUl  ol  a  lu\<illaiwl  was  turtUMl,  atui  ihe  Mission  ol  ihr 
White  Doji  appoarovl,  pon  hoil  npot\  the  proeipit«)n»  banks  ol 
the  strertni.  It  was  the  e)\tl  of  the  travdrr's  journey.  A  fow 
huts,  rt  few  tntlians,  a  ron\pany's  tiaiHng-storc,  and  at»  arotna 
of  ileertvinghsh  whi(  h,  atnalgatuating  with  the  sh'ghl  mist  from 
the  river.  surrovin«h^l  the  traveler's  heat!  like  an  aureole. 


IKAvKISU. 


■  1 


CHAPIKK   Vir. 


TIIK    (JKKAI     lAM,    IIDNT. 


M 


'TP*II  I'iK  I''.  h;)vr  now  iiinxml  «liHa|)|)e(ir<;(l  frotn  flu;  vast 
"^  luifCiilo-rfinj^cH  cxlcndinj^  holwccn  the  MinKoiiri  nnf! 
.SnHkalclicwnn  Rivcrn  llio  Inst  vcHtiK«'«  "f  wli;it  were  aiuv  the 
nioHt  |)crfc<tly-(irgaiii/,c(1,  cffcr  live,  and  |ii(  tiireB(|uc  pcriodi- 
oally-rccnrrin^  luiDling-rxctirHionH  known  to  any  nrmndic  pco- 
ploH.  'riicy  ciinit'  within  the  list!*,  too,  of  what  are  technically 
known  to  sportHnicn  as"  pot-huntH  "—forming  the  almost  en- 
tire HUpport  of  certain  well-dcfMUMl  border  commiiniticH, 

For  over  half  a  century  rcgiinentH  of  men— with  avast  fol- 
lowing of  -ctainors  and  inipiuliincnia — have  swept  ov<r  the 
ilains  twice  annii.illy,  hearing  slaughter  and  destruction  to  it» 
shaggy  denizens  ;  the  |)rodiict  being  suffirient  to  maintain  n 
large  colony  with  its  various  dependencies  in  pl'-nty,  and  even 
in  coni[)arativ('  luxury,  for  the  remainder  of  the  y«;ar.  These 
hunts  formed  an  almost  certain  means  of  livelihood,  and,  for 
the  amount  of  labor  retpiired,  offered  inducements  far  sui)erior 
to  those  of  agriculture,  or,  indeed,  any  other  pursuit  which  the 
scope  of  counlry  presented.  Moreover,  they  were  especially 
ada|)ted  to  the  class  with  which  they  obtained — a  flass 
which,  by  reason  of  eminent  fitness  and  efficiency,  seemed 
particularly  designed  by   Nature  for   the  congenial   calling. 


136 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


•li 


lii 


;»; 


In 


Hi 


Suggested  first  by  the  necessities  of  a  meagre  handful  of 
half-starved  immigrants,  they  became  at  length  the  main- 
stay of  a  considerable  population,  and  an  important  factor 
in  the  commerce  of  the  world.  Wherever  a  buffalo-robe  is 
found,  particularly  in  European  markets,  there  may  be  seen 
the  business-card  of  this  vast  pot-hunt ;  sometimes  repre- 
sented by  the  robe  itself,  again  by  certain  hieroglyphics  deco- 
rating its  tanned  side.  And  this  (to  many)  cabalistic  ,  er- 
tisement  suggests  the  matter  of  the  present  chapter. 

In  the  year  181 1  the  Earl  of  Selkirk  purchased  of  the 
Hudson's  Bay  Company  the  ownership  of  a  vast  tract  of  land, 
including,  as  a  small  part  of  the  whole,  the  ground  occupied 
by  a  colony  known,  until  its  recent  purchase  by  the  Dominion 
Government,  as  Red  River  Settlement,  near  the  foot  of  Lake 
Winnipeg,  in  British  North  America.  On  this  territory  Earl 
Selkirk  had  formed  the  Utopian  idea  of  settling  a  populous 
colony,  of  which  he  should  be  the  feudal  lord.  A  compul- 
sory exodus  of  the  inhabitants  of  the  mountainous  regions 
of  the  county  of  Sutherland,  Scotland,  taking  place  about 
that  time,  to  make  way  for  the  working  of  the  sterner 
realities  of  the  system  of  land  management  which  prevails 
on  great  estates  in  this  prosaic  nineteinth  century,  an  op- 
portunity of  easily  obtaining  the  desired  colonists  for  the 
occupation  of  his  new  purchase  was  thus  presented.  The  first 
instalment  of  colonists  reached  the  bay  coast  in  the  autumn 
of  181 1,  advanced  inland  in  the  following  spring,  and,  at  the 
confluence  of  the  Assiniboine  and  Red  Rivers,  about  forty 
mile?  ''"om  the  foot  of  Lake  Winnipeg,  found  themselves — 


■f  ■     '-it!  I 


T//E  GREAT  FALL  HUNT. 


137 


metaphorically  speaking — at  home.  They  were  in  the  centre 
of  the  American  Continent,  fifteen  or  sixteen  hundred  miles  in 
direct  distance  from  the  nearest  city  residence  of  civilized  man 
in  America,  and  separated  from  the  country  whence  they 
came  by  an  almost  impassable  barrier. 

Unfortunately  for  the  successful  founding  of  an  agricultu- 
ral colony,  such  as  Lord  Selkirk  had  planned,  the  rival  French 
Canadian  fur-companies,  contending  for  the  possession  of  the 
territory  with  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  chose  to  regard 
the  new-comers  as  invaders,  whose  presence  was  detrimental 
to  their  interests  ;  and  the  Indians  also  objected  to  the  culti- 
vation of  their  hunting-grounds.  Between  the  persecutions  of 
two  such  powerful  enemies,  the  colonists  made,  after  the  de- 
struction of  their  crops  and  dwellings  the  first  year,  but  little 
attempt  at  agriculture,  and  adopted,  perforce,  the  nomadic 
life  of  the  country,  visiting  the  plains  twice  annually  in  pur- 
suit of  buffalo.  This  mode  of  life  obtained  until  the  coalition 
of  all  the  fur-companies,  in  the  year  1821,  increased  the  size 
of  the  colony  by  the  acquisition  of  all  the  French  hunters  and 
traders — who  selected  rather  to  remain  there  than  to  return  to 
Canada — and  rendered  the  peaceful  pursuit  of  agriculture 
possible. 

But  it  occurred  that,  by  intermarriage  with  the  aborigines, 
and  ten  years  of  the  free,  roving  life  of  the  plain-hunter,  agri- 
culture had  become  distasteful  to  the  younger  portion  of  the 
sturdy  Scots,  while  the  French,  of  course,  still  clung  to  old 
habits,  relying  entirely  upon  the  chase  for  a  livelihood.  So 
it  happened  that,  while  a  small  minority  of  the  first  colonists 


II 

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138 


T///-:  OREA  T  J- UK  LAND, 


—those  of  advanced  age — adopted  the  cultivation  of  the  soil, 
the  large  majority  of  the  eight  or  ten  thousand  people  form- 
ing the  settlement  followed  the  chase  ;  thus  presenting  the 
anomaly  of  a  settled,  civilized  community  subsisting  by  the 
pursuits  common  to  nomadic  life  ;  in  reality,  civilized  nomads. 
From  those  early  days  up  to  the  present,  when  civilization  by 
rajiid  strides  has  encroached  upon  and  overrun  that  isolated 
locality,  the  same  mode  of  life  has  obtained,  with,  until  with- 
in the  past  ten  years,  no  very  perceptible  change.  The 
French  portion  of  the  colony  rely  entirely  upon  the  chase,  if 
we  may  except  certain  miniature  attempts  at  farming  ;  the 
Scotch  alternating  between  seasons  of  labor  with  plow  and 
hoe  and  the  semi-annual  hunts  ;  the  half-breed  offspring  of 
the  latter  instinctively  adopting  the  chase.  The  world  pre- 
sents no  other  such  incongruous  picture. 

It  is  not  within  our  province  to  enter  upon  the  details  ot 
buffalo-hunting  as  practiced  upon  the  plains,  and  with  which, 
doubtless,  all  are  familiar  ;  but  it  may  not  be  devoid  of  in- 
terest to  follow  this  particular  hunt  to  its  termination,  as  pre- 
senting certain  peculiarities  not  found  elsewhere. 

The  parties  belonging  to  the  summer  hunt  start  about  the 
beginning  of  June,  and  remain  on  the  plains  until  the  begin- 
ning of  August.  They  then  return  to  the  settlements  for  a 
short  time,  for  the  purpose  o'  trading  the  pemmican  or  dried 
meat,  which  forms  the  staple  article  of  produce  from  the 
hunt.  The  autumn  hunters  start  during  the  month  of  August, 
and  remain  on  the  prairie  until  the  end  of  October,  or  early  in 
November,  when  they  usually  return,  bringing  '.he  fresh  or 


'I ";; 


THE  GREAT  FALL    HUNT 


139 


"  green  meat,"  preserved  at  this  late  season  by  the  extreme 
cold,  and  fall  buffalo-robes.  This  latter  hunt,  including  all 
the  features  of  the  former,  we  select  as  the  subject  of  de- 
scription. 

After  the  return  of  the  people  from  the  summer  hunt,  and 
a  short  time  allowed  for  the  sale  of  their  produce,  a  few  of 
the  recognized  leaders  of  the  chase  assemble  to  arrange  the 
time  and  place  of  a  general  rendezvous  for  the  fall  hunt. 
The  time  is  always  set  for  the  first  days  of  September,  but  the 
place  of  rendezvous  changes  from  year  to  year,  as  the  herds 
of  buffalo  are  reported  by  the  summer  hunters  as  being  close 
at  hand  or  afar  off.  Of  late  years  the  rendezvous  has  been 
made  at  Pembina  Mountain,  a  locality  on  the  United  States 
boundary-line  in  the  northeast  corner  of  Dakota  Territory, 
comparatively  close  at  hand.  From  this  point  the  hunt  fre- 
quently divides  into  two  sections,  one  proceeding  in  a  south- 
erly, the  other  in  a  southwesterly  direction.  Both  time  and 
place  having  been  designated  by  the  (for  the  time)  self-consti- 
tuted leaders  of  the  hunt,  the  word  at  once  passes  through 
the  colony  by  that  subtile  electricity  of  gossip  common  to  the 
frontier  as  elsewhere,  but  generally  dignified  by  the  name  of 
news.  The  rapidity  with  which  it  travels,  too,  suggests  the 
entire  needlessness  of  telegraphy. 

A  particular  date  is  determined  upon  for  departure  from 
the  rendezvous,  but  it  is  customary  to  meet,  if  possible,  some 
days  previous  to  that  time,  in  order  that  everything  may  be  in 
perfect  readiness.  From  the  day  of  notification  to  that  of  de- 
parture for  the  rendezvous,  the  colony  is  in  a  constant  state 


If., 


I 


■i  I! 


liiliiiiti 


m 


140 


T^E  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


of  preparation.  In  every  door-yard  may  be  seen  the  canvas 
tents  and  leather  tepees  of  prospective  hunters,  stretched  for 
repairs  ;  carts  undergoing  a  like  renovating  process,  and  fences 
decorated  with  dislocated  sets  of  harness  ;  guns  and  accoutre- 
ments burnished  to  an  unwonted  degree  of  effulgence  ;  ket- 
tles strewed  about  the  yard,  together  with  wooden  trunks  and 
other  paraphernalia  of  the  camp.  As  the  time  approaches  for 
the  meet,  the  well-worn  trails  leading  toward  the  rendezvous 
become  vividly  alive  with  long  trains  of  carts,  oxen,  ponies, 
and  well-groomed  runners  used  in  the  final  chase.  Each 
hunter  takes,  in  addition  to  the  carts  necessary  for  the  con- 
veyance of  his  family — for  the  women  and  children  have  their 
share  in  the  labor  equally  with  the  men — a  supply  of  extra 
vehicles  in  which  to  load  the  meat  and  robes  falling  to  his 
share.  And  this  train  of  carts,  constantly  augmented  by  new 
additions,  marching  in  single  file,  for  days  seems  interminable, 
sending  up  a  refrain  from  ungreased  axles  that  may  be  heard 
miles  away  on  the  prairie. 

While  some  of  the  carts  are  devoted  to  the  conveyance  of 
madame,  the  hunter's  wife,  and  possibly  the  younger  children, 
the  remainder  are  filled  at  the  start  with  tents,  bedding, 
camp-equipage,  and  provisions  sufficient  to  last  until  the  buf- 
falo are  reached.  The  ponies  and  oxen  drawing  them  march 
in  single  file,  and  each  one  being  tied  to  the  tail  of  the  vehicle 
before  it,  they  become  jammed  together  in  a  telescopic  fash- 
ion when  a  sudden  halt  occurs  in  the  line,  and  elongated  on 
starting  again  in  a  way  that  is  affecting  to  behold.  About  the 
train,  as  it  creaks  monotonously  along,  the  loose  animals  are 


■t/u^l 


THE  GREAT  FALL  HUNT. 


141 


driven,  and  what  with  their  tramping  feet  and  the  dragging 
gait  of  the  cart-animals  the  little  caravan  is  likely  to  be  hid- 
den from  view  in  the  dark  clouds  of  dust  arising  from  the 
well-worn  trails.  The  rate  of  travel,  estimated  entirely  by 
time,  is  about  twenty  miles  per  day,  and  at  this  pace  nearly 
four  days  are  required  to  reach  the  rendezvous. 

Pembina  Mountain  rises  on  the  north  and  east  in  a  series 
of  table-lands,  each  table  about  half  a  mile  in  width,  sparsely 
timbered,  and  bountifully  supplied  with  springs.  On  its 
western  slope,  at  the  base  of  which  runs  the  Pembina  River, 
the  mountain  terminates  abruptly.  Across  the  stream,  flow- 
ing deep  below  the  surface  in  a  narrow  valley,  the  banks 
remain  of  about  an  equal  height  with  the  mountain,  stretch- 
ing away  toward  the  Missouri  in  a  bare,  treeless  plain,  broken 
only  by  the  solitary  elevation  in  the  dim  distance  of  Ne-pauk- 
wa-win  (Dry  Dance  Hill).  On  this  bank  of  the  river  is  the 
rendezvous,  selected  in  accordance  with  an  'nvariable  rule  of 
prairie-travel — to  always  cross  a  stream  on  the  route  before 
camping.  As  wood  is  not  to  be  had  on  the  western  bank, 
each  hunter  cuts  a  supply  for  his  camp-fires  as  he  passes  over 
the  mountain  ;  and,  as  no  more  timber  will  be  encountered 
during  the  hunt,  he  also  carefully  selects  an  abundant  supply 
of  poplar-poles  upon  which  to  hang  the  meat  to  dry  after  the 
chase,  and  for  use  as  frames  in  stretching  robes  to  be  tanned. 

As  hour  after  hour  and  day  after  day  the  carts  come 
straggling  in,  sometimes  a  single  hunter  with  his  outfit  of 
from  three  to  ten  carts,  again  a  train  so  swollen  by  contribu- 
tions along  the  road  as  to  number  hundreds,  the  camp  of  ren- 


142 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


dezvous  enlarges  its  borders,  and  presents  a  scene  both  novel 
and  picturesque.  The  elevated  plain  on  the  immediate  banks 
of  the  stream  is  covered  with  a  motley  grouping  of  carts,  can- 
vas tents,  smoke-brown  leather  tepees,  and,  in  lieu  of  other 
shelter,  small  squares  of  cotton  or  raw-hide  stretched  from 
cart  to  cart,  or  over  a  rough  framework  of  poles.  For  miles 
around  the  prairie  is  alive  with  ponies,  hoppled,  tied  to  lariat- 
pins,  or  dragging  about  poles  as  a  preventive  against  straying. 
Mingled  with  this  kicking,  neighing  herd  wander  hundreds  of 
oxen — patient,  lowing  kine,  the  youthful  vivacity  of  which 
has  given  place  to  middle-aged  steadiness.  Through  this 
compact  mass  of  animal  life  gallop  with  a  wild  scurry,  from 
time  to  time,  half-nude  boys,  breaking  a  narrow  pathway  in 
search  of  some  needed  ox  or  pony,  or  hurrying  the  whole 
struggling  mass  riverward. 

In  the  camp  the  sole  occupation  of  the  day  is  the  pursuit 
of  pleasure.  From  every  tent  and  shelter  comes  the  sound  of 
laughter  ;  every  camp-fire  furnishes  its  quota  of  jest  and 
song.  Here  a  small  but  excited  circle,  gathered  under  the 
shade  of  a  cart,  are  deeply  engaged  in  gambling  by  what  is 
known  as  the  "moccasin-game."  In  an  empty  moccasin  are 
placed  sundry  buttons  and  bullets,  which,  being  shaken  up, 
involve  the  guessing  of  the  number  in  the  shoe.  The  ground 
is  covered  with  guns,  capotes,  and  shirts,  the  volatile  half- 
breed  often  stripping  the  clothing  from  his  back  to  satisfy  his 
passion  for  play,  or  staking  his  last  horse  and  cart.  There 
another  like-minded  party  are  gambling  with  cards,  the  stakes 
being  a  medley  of  everything  portable  owned  by  the  players. 


THE  GREAT  FALL  HUNT. 


143 


In  many  tents  rum  is  holding  an  orgy,  and  the  clinking  of 
cups,  boisterous  laughter  and  song,  tell  of  the  presence  of  the 
direst  enemy  of  the  hunter.  In  another  quarter  feasting  is 
the  order  of  the  day,  and  the  small  stock  of  provisions,  de- 
signed to  supply  the  family  until  the  buffalo  were  reached,  is 
being  devoured  at  a  sitting.  The  host  knows  this  ;  but, 
then,  he  selects  a  feast  and  its  consequent  famine.  Yonder 
tawny  Pyramus  is  making  love  to  dusky  Thisbe  after  the 
most  approved  fashion.  They  seem  indifferent  to  the  ex- 
posure of  the  camp,  and  conduct  their  wooing  as  if  no  curi- 
ous eyes  were  upon  them.  About  the  many  camp-fires 
stand,  or  crouch,  the  wives  of  the  hunters,  busily  engaged  in 
culinary  operations,  or  gossiping  with  neighbors,  while  their 
numerous  scantily-attired  offspring  play  about  in  the  dust  and 
dirt  with  wolfish-looking  dogs.  The  baby  of  the  family, 
fastened  to  a  board,  leans  against  a  cait-wheel,  douljtless  re- 
volving in  its  infantile  mind  those  subtile  questions  pertinent 
to  babyhood. 

Gathered  in  a  circle  apart  are  likely  to  be  found  the  aged 
leaders  of  the  hunt,  engaged  in  discussion  of  the  weightier 
matters  of  the  time  ;  but,  from  the  broad  smiles  lighting  up 
their  bronzed  features  at  times,  it  is  doubtful  whether  many  of 
the  subjects  are  relevant.  Perched  high  on  a  cart-wheel, 
farther  on,  sits  a  long-haired  Paganini,  drawing  rude  melo- 
dies from  an  antiquated  and  fractured  violin.  About  him 
are  congregated  a  crowd  of  delighted  hearers,  suggesting  new 
tunes,  requesting  the  loan  of  the  instrument  long  enough  to 
exhibit  their  own  skill,  or,  seized  with  the  infection,  suddenly 


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144 


r//£  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


breaking  into  an  improvised  break-down,  or  executing  a  pas 
seul  the  very  embodiment  of  caricature.  Reclining  under  the 
shade  of  carts,  in  every  possible  attitude,  lie  weary  hunters 
indulging  in  a  siesta,  from  which  to  be  rudely  awakened  by 
some  practical  joke  of  their  fellows,  only  to  find  themselves 
bound  hand  and  foot.  Again,  the  awaking  is  made  in  a  man- 
ner more  congenial  by  the  mellow  gurgling  of  proffered  liquor 
held  to  the  lips.  About  the  outskirts  of  the  camp  the  veteran 
horse-trader  plies  his  calling,  painting  the  merits  of  the  animal 
in  hand  in  vivid  coleur  de  rose.  Above  all  rises  the  clamor 
of  many  tongues,  speaking  many  languages,  the  neighing  of 
horses,  the  lowing  of  kine,  the  barking  of  hundreds  of  dogs, 
and  the  shouts  and  yells  of  fresh  arrivals,  as  they  pour  hourly 
in  to  swell  the  numbers  of  the  already  vast  encampment. 

In  the  afternoon,  if  the  day  be  propitious,  the  camp  be- 
comes for  a  time  comparatively  deserted,  the  noise  and  ex- 
citement being  temporarily  transferred  to  the  distance  of  a 
mile  or  more  upon  the  prairie.  Here  the  hunter  presents  a 
totally  different  appearance  from  the  lounging,  tattered,  un- 
kempt personage  of  the  morning,  He  has  donned  his  holiday 
apparel,  appearing  in  all  the  bravery  of  new  moccasins,  tas- 
seled  cap,  gaudy  shirt,  fine  blue  capote,  and  corduroy  trou- 
sers. His  sash  is  of  the  most  brilliant  pattern,  and  wound 
i.bout  his  waist  to  make  its  broadest  display.  He  is  mounted 
upon  his  best  horse,  with  bridle  and  saddle  decked  with 
ribbons  and  bravery,  and  has  suddenly  become  an  alert, 
active,  volatile,  and  excitable  being,  constantly  gesticulating, 
shouting,  and  full  of  life.     A  straight  course  is  marked  ofif 


THE  GREAT  FALL  HUNT. 


145 


upon  the  prairie  of,  say,  half  a  mile  in  length.  After  well- 
known  leaders  of  the  hunt  have  been  stationed  at  either  end, 
the  racing  begins.  Betting  runs  high,  the  wagers  of  the  prin- 
cipals being  generally  horse  against  horse,  those  of  outsiders 
ranging  from  valuable  horses  down  through  carts  and  oxen  to 
the  clothing  worn  at  the  moment.  All  is  excitement,  and  as 
the  contestants  dash  forward,  with  that  peculiar  plunging  of  the 
heelF  into  the  flanks  of  the  horses  at  every  jump,  affected  by 
the  plain-hunter,  it  breaks  forth  in  cheers  and  gesticulations 
of  encouragement  to  the  favorite.  All  points  of  disagreement 
are  quickly  settled  by  the  dictum  of  the  umpires,  and  the  loser 
quietly  strips  saddle  and  bridle  from  his  much-prized 
animal,  and  consoles  himself  for  the  loss  in  copious  draughts 
of  rum. 

To  the  regular  courses  of  the  day  succeed  a  multitude  of 
scrub-races,  gotten  up  on  the  spur  of  the  moment,  and  involv- 
ing almost  every  article  of  property  as  the  wagers.  Horses, 
oxen,  tents,  guns,  clothing,  provisions,  and  spirits,  change 
hands  with  wonderful  celerity,  and  to  an  accompaniment  of 
shouts  and  gesticulations  that  would  do  no  discredit  to  Bed- 
lam. The  sport  continues  with  but  little  abatement  through- 
out the  afternoon,  the  races  gradually  growing  shorter,  how- 
ever, and  the  wagers  of  more  trifling  value. 

Toward  night  the  huge  cam  j  becomes  again  resonant  with 
a  more  intense  Babel  of  sounds.  The  lucky  winner  on  the 
race-course  parades  his  gains,  and  depicts  in  graphic  panto- 
mime his  share  in  the  sports  ;  while  the  loser  bewails  his  losses 

in  maudlin  tones,  or  arranges  the  terms  of  a  new  race  for  the 
7 


*    I 


'J^Hf 


w 


iii 


146 


r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


morrow.  The  betting  of  the  afternoon  is  succeeded  by  the 
deeper  gambling  of  the  evv^ning  ;  and  the  sounds  of  shuffling 
cards,  the  clinking  of  the  buttons  and  bullets  of  the  moccasin- 
game,  and  the  exclamations  of  triumph  and  despair  of  winner 
and  loser,  are  everywhere  heard.  Rum  flows  freely  ;  for  each 
hunter  brings  a  supply  to  tide  him  over  the  grand  encamp- 
ment, and  start  him  fairly  on  his  journey.  As  the  night  ad- 
vances, the  camp  grows  more  and  more  boisterous,  the  confu- 
sion worse  confounded.  The  women  disai)pear  from  the 
camp-fires,  and  betake  themselves  to  tents  out  of  harm's  way. 
Drunken  men  reel  about  the  flaming  fires  ;  wild  yells  fill  the 
still  air ;  quarrels  are  engendered  ;  fierce  invectives  in  many 
tongues  roll  from  angry  lips,  and  the  saturnalia  becomes  gen- 
eral. The  camp-fires  light  up  the  strange  scene  with  a  lurid 
glare,  and  tent,  cart,  and  awning,  cast  fantastic  shadows  over 
all.  The  orgy  continues  late  in  the  night,  and,  when  the  fires 
flicker  and  die  out,  their  last  feeble  glow  reveals  shadowy 
forms  stretched  promiscuously  about,  sleeping  the  sleep  of 
drunkenness. 

With  the  first  glow  of  coming  dawn,  the  camp  rouses  into 
life  and  vigor  again.  The  headaches  and  fevers  engendered 
by  the  debauch  of  the  previous  night  are  carried  patiently  by 
their  owners  to  the  river's  brink,  and  bathed  in  its  cooling 
waters.  The  women  once  more  appear  about  the  camp-fires, 
clad  in  dark-blue  calico — which  so  effectually  conceals  •  ^- 
ceeding  accumulations  of  dirt — busied  in  preparations 
morning  meal.  Their  lords  stand  moodily  near  to  ol  i  a 
share  of  the  heat ;  for  the  mornings  are  chilly  and  raw.    Ana, 


:-^J: 


r  nil 


THE  GREAT  FALL  HUNT. 


147 


as  the  excitement  of  the  previous  day  has  been  dissipated  by 
sleep,  and  that  of  the  opening  day  is  still  to  come,  the  fea- 
tures of  the  plain-hunter  are  in  repose,  betraying  at  a  glance 
the  nature  of  his  employment,  'ihe  theory  that  one's  daily 
life  leaves  its  impress  ujjon  the  face  meets  with  no  more  ample 
corroboration  than  here.  The  countenance  at  first  sight 
would  be  taken  for  that  of  a  resolute,  reckless,  and  determined 
man.  It  is  deeply  bronzed  by  exposure,  and  is  marked  by 
numerous  hard  lines  sharply  defined  about  the  mouth  and 
eyes.  Somewhat  Assyrian  in  type,  yet  it  expresses  a  certain 
cunning  combined  with  its  resolution  ;  the  eyes  are  watchfully 
vigilant  ;  the  square  lower  jaw  prominent  and  firmly  set ;  the 
nose  straight  and  somewhat  hooked  ;  the  cheeks  rather  sunken 
and  sparsely  bearded.  A  faint  glow  of  excitement,  however, 
instantly  changes  the  expression  :  it  becomes  alert,  volatile, 
all  alive — a  face  to  dare  any  thing,  to  plunge  into  danger  from 
mere  love  of  it,  and  yet  not  a  labor-loving  face,  nor  one  capa- 
ble of  sustained  effort  in  any  direction  not  attended  with  the 
excitement  of  physical  risk. 

This  type  of  countenance  pervades  the  camp  more  or  less. 
It  assumes  its  deepest  tints  in  the  old  hunters,  degenerating 
into  a  haggard,  reckless  air,  and  finds  its  mildest  phase  in  the 
newly-fledged  buffalo-runner,  about  whose  eyes  the  inevitable 
marks  are  but  beginning  to  form.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  so  much 
the  danger  that  paints  these  lines  of  life  in  sombre  hues  upon 
the  face,  as  the  wild,  reckless  racing  and  slaughter  of  the  final 
chase — a  chase  leading  for  miles,  and  extending  through  long 
hours,  keeping  nerve,  muscle,  and  mind,  at  their  utmost  ten- 


I 


148 


THE  GRF.A  T  FUR  LAND. 


i  I; : 


j      i  ■ 


in 

1 

sion,  and  all  bent  upon  slaughter.  But,  whatever  the  cause, 
certain  it  is  that  no  class  of  men  more  distinctly  marked  by 
the  characteristics  of  their  vocation  exist  than  the  members  of 
this  hunt.  Even  the  \yomen  assume,  after  a  time,  the  reckless 
air  of  their  husbands  and  brothers  engaged  in  it. 

The  most  positive,  perhaps,  of  the  recognized  laws  regulat- 
ing the  camp  of  rendezvous  is  that  forbidding  the  departure 
of  any  one  from  its  limits  after  having  once  entered  it.  This 
is  to  guard  against  covering  the  i)lains  with  straggling  bands 
of  hunters  whose  presence  would  inevitably  drive  the  buffalo 
from  their  usual  range.  By  reason  of  thi.  self-imi)osed  law,  no 
one  attemps  to  leave  the  main  body  until  all  the  hunters  have 
arrived — an  event  which  generally  occurs  within  a  week  from 
the  first  formation  of  die  camp.  During  that  ])cri()d  the  time 
is  passed  much  in  the  fashion  above  described,  and,  as  a  con- 
sequence of  so  continuous  a  series  of  dissipations,  all  are 
eager  to  break  camp  and  start  upon  the  long  jaurney.  The 
day  previous  to  that  appointed  for  departure,  however,  is  set 
apart  for  the  election  of  rhe  officers  of  the  hunt,  and  the 
transaction  of  such  other  business  as  the  exigencies  ot  the 
time  suggest. 

By  this  date  the  hunters  are  supposed  to  be  ill  in,  and  pre- 
pared as  well  as  they  ever  will  be  for  departure.  The  encamp- 
ment has  swollen  almost  beyond  available  limits,  and  become 
dissipated  and  unruly  to  a  degree.  From  two  thousand  to 
twenty-five  hundred  carts  line  the  banks ;  three  thousand 
animals  graze  within  sight  upon  the  prairie  ;  one  thousand 
men,  with  their  following  of  Avomen  and  children,  find  shelter 


THE  GREAT  FALL  HUNT. 


149 


under  carts,  and  in  the  tents  and  tepees  of  the  encampment ; 
the  smoke  of  the  camp-fires  ahnost  obscures  the  sun  ;  and 
the  Ikibel  of  sounds  arising  from  the  laughing,  neighing,  bark- 
ing multitude,  resembles  the  rush  of  many  waters. 

Immediately  after  breakfast  of  the  day  previous  to  that 
appointed  for  departure  from  the  rendezvous,  all  the  males  of 
the  camp  repair  to  a  point  a  short  distance  off  upon  the  prai- 
rie, where  gathered  in  a  huge  circle,  they  proceed  to  the  elec- 
tion of  officers  for  the  coming  hunt.  The  votes  are  given  first 
for  a  chief,  who  shall  see  that  all  laws  are  enforced,  and  shall 
have  the  power  of  settling  all  disputes.  To  this  office  is 
almost  invariably  elected  an  old  hunter,  prominent  both  on 
account  of  ex|)erience  and  executive  ability,  and  for  whose 
comparatively  exemplary  life  all  entertain  respect.  'i"he 
second  ballot  elects  twelve  counselors  who,  with  the  chief, 
make  the  laws,  decide  the  direction  of  travel,  and  advise  the 
executi\  c  in  all  matters  of  doubtful  propriety.  These  per- 
sons, bt'inji  necessarily  men  of  experience,  are  chosen  also 
from  the  elderly  men  of  the  camp,  or  those  who  have  followed 
plain-hunting  for  many  years.  The  third  ballot  is  cast  for 
the  election  of  four  captains,  each  of  whom  will  command  a 
certain  number  of  men,  called  soldiers,  who  become  the  police 
•ot  the  hunt,  mounting  guard  against  Indians,  arranging  the 
shape  of  the  camp — an  outer  circle  formed  of  carts,  inside  of 
which  the  tents  and  animals  are  placed — keeping  watch  over 
private  property,  arresting  offenders,  etc.  These  four  men 
must  be  of  a  determined  mould,  and  are  chosen  from  the 
middle-aged  hunters  whose  courage    and  vigilap'^e   are    ap- 


■'■  f , 


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m 

f 

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r 

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150 


r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


1:7 


proved.  Lastly,  four  guides  are  elected,  who  are  to  lead 
the  train  in  the  direction  indicated  by  the  chief  and  counselors. 
This  position,  involving  a  thorough  knowledge  of  the  country, 
is  always  filled  from  the  ranks  of  the  older  hunters,  whose 
many  years  of  service  have  rendered  them  acquainted  with 
every  foot  of  the  territory  to  be  traversed.  With  this  last 
office  the  election  terminates. 

Before  the  crowd  disperses,  the  chief  and  counselors 
have  framed  a  code  of  laws  which  is  to  govern  the  multitude 
during  the  period  covered  by  the  hunt.  This  code  varies  a 
little,  perhaps,  in  phraseology  from  year  to  year,  but  is  gene- 
rally of  the  following  substance  : 

1.  No  running  of  buffalo  is  permitted  on  the  Sabbath- 
day. 

2.  No  member  of  the  hunt  to  lag  behind,  go  before,  or 
fork  off  from  the  main  body,  unless  by  special  permission  of 
the  chief. 

3.  No  person  or  party  to  run  buffalo  before  the  general 
order  is  given,  in  which  the  entire  hunt  may  participate. 

4.  Every  captain,  with  his  men,  to  patrol  the  camp  in 
turn,  in  order  that  a  continual  watch  may  be  kept. 

Penalties. — For  the  first  offence,  the  saddle  and  bridle  of 
the  offender  to  be  cut  up. 

2.  The  offender  to  have  his  coat  cut  up. 

3.  The  offender  to  be  publicly  flogged. 

Any  penalty  is  foregone,  however,  if  the  guilty  party  pay 
a  stipulated  sum  in  money,  meat,  or  robes,  for  each  offence. 
In  case  of  theft  the  perpetrator  is  to  be  taken  to  the  mid- 


THE  GREAT  FALL  HUNT, 


151 


die  of  the  camp,  his  name  called  aloud  thrice,  the  word 
"  thief  "  being  added. 

The  election  having  furnished  the  hunt  with  the  requisite 
officers,  and  a  code  of  laws  providing  for  all  the  necessities 
and  emergencies  incident  to  its  nomadic  life,  the  huge  en- 
campment begins  at  once  to  feel  their  salutary  effect.  By 
eventide  the  soldiers  are  selected  from  the  numbers  of  the 
young  men,  and  a  relief  patrols  the  camp — for  the  laws  are 
enforced  from  the  moment  of  their  enactment.  The  effect  is 
perceptible  in  the  lessened  confusion,  the  cessation  of  public 
drinking  and  gambling,  and  a  general  air  of  order  and  rou- 
tine. The  dissipation  of  the  past  week  is  replaced  by  atten- 
tion to  the  details  of  the  coming  journey.  Everything  is 
made  ready  for  an  early  departure  on  the  morrow.  The 
chief  and  his  counselors  assemble  in  the  centre  of  the  camp 
and  discuss  the  most  advisable  route  to  pursue  ;  the  council 
being  open  to  outsiders  having  suggestions  to  offer.  The  cap- 
tains of  the  guard  pass  through  the  camp  in  all  directions, 
issuing  orders  as  to  the  disposition  of  animals,  carts,  and  bag- 
gage, in  such  manner  as  to  afford  the  best  facilities  for  easy 
and  rapid  loading.  Play-day  is  over,  and  the  real  busi- 
ness of  the  hunt  begins.  After  the  lapse  of  a  night  which, 
in  its  quietude,  forms  a  violent  contrast  with  the  seven 
or  more  preceding  it,  the  camp  of  rendezvous  is  broken  up, 
and  the  caravan  begins  to  move. 

The  fortunate  traveler  who,  standing  upon  the  edge  of 
the  Sahara,  has  seen  a  caravan  trailing  out  into  the  barren 
and  interminable  sand-dunes  of  the  desert,  the  main  body 


M 


i!!inii'!i 


152 


T//£  CREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


tortuous  and  serpentine,  the  fast-disappearing  head  swaying 
to  and  fro  in  the  dim  distance,  has  but  few  features  of  the 
scene  to  change  in  depicting  the  departure  of  this  mongrel 
hunt  for  the  barren  buffalo-ranges  of  the  plains.  With  the 
first  gleam  of  morning,  before  the  mists  have  lifted  from  the 
river,  the  flag  of  the  guide  is  raised  and  the  huge  train  starts 
upon  its  way.  One  by  one  the  carts  fall  into  line,  following 
each  other  in  single  file,  until  the  last  vehicle  has  left  the 
camp  of  rendezvous.  The  train  is  now  five  miles  in  length,  its 
width  varying  from  half  a  mile  to  a  mile,  as  the  press  of  loose 
animals  is  greater  or  less.  The  creaking  of  the  loose  cart- 
frames,  the  screech  of  ungreased  axles,  the  shouts  of  wild 
riders  as  they  dash  along  the  length  of  the  train  or  off  upon 
the  prairie  in  quest  of  some  stray  animal,  the  neighing  of 
horses,  the  lowing  of  Vine,  make  a  pandemonium  of  sounds 
that  may  be  heard  miles  away  upon  the  plain.  At  the  ex- 
treme front  rides  a  staid  guide  bearing  a  white  flag,  which 
when  raised,  indicates  a  continuance  of  the  march,  and,  when 
lowered,  the  signal  to  halt  and  camp.  About  this  standard- 
bearer  move,  with  grave  demeanor,  as  becomes  those  charged 
with  important  trusts,  the  old  chief  and  counselors  of  the 
hunt. 

Along  the  line  of  march  are  scattered  the  four  captains  of 
the  guard,  who,  with  their  men,  keep  order  in  the  line. 
Here  rides  on  a  sleek  runner  the  average  hunter,  in  corduroy 
and  capote,  bronzed,  sparsely  bearded,  volatile,  and  given 
to  much  gesticulation  ;  next,  an  Indian,  pure  and  simple, 
crouched  upon  the  back  of  his  shaggy,  unkempt  pony,  with- 


in:! 


THE  GREAT  FALL  HUNT. 


153 


out  saddle,  and  using  a  single  cord  as  bridle — a  blanketed, 
hatless,  "  grave  and  reverend  seignior,"  speaking  but  seldom, 
and  then  only  in  monosyllables  ;  then  a  sandy-haired  and 
canny  Scot,  clad  in  homespun,  and  with  keen  grey  eyes  wide 
open  for  the  main  chance,  eager  for  trade,  but  reckless  and 
daring  as  any  hunter  of  them  all,  bestriding  a  large-boned, 
well-accoutred  animal,  and  riding  it  like  a  heavy  dragoon  ; 
here,  again,  a  pink-cheeked  sprig  of  English  nobility,  doing 
the  hunt  from  curiosity,  and  carefully  watched  over  by  a 
numerous  retinue  of  servants  and  retainers.  He  has  in  his 
outfit  all  the  latest  patterns  of  arms,  the  most  comprehensive 
of  camp-chests,  and  impedimenta  enough  for  a  full  company 
of  plain-hunters.  From  every  covered  cart  in  the  long  train 
peer  the  dusky  faces  of  Phyllis  and  Thisbe,  sometimes  chat- 
ting gayly  with  the  tawny  cavaliers  riding  alongside  ;  again, 
engaged  in  quieting  the  demonstrations  of  a  too  lively  pro- 
geny. In  the  bottom  of  every  tenth  vehicle,  stretched  upon 
its  back  in  the  soft  folds  of  a  robe  or  tent,  and  kicking  its 
tiny  pink  heels  skyward,  lies  the  ever-present  baby — a  laugh- 
ing, crowing,  dusky  infant,  clad  in  the  costume  of  the  Greek 
slave,  and  apparently  impervious  to  the  chill  air  of  the  early 
morning.  Scattered  about  among  the  throng  of  marching 
animals  ride  the  boys,  servants,  and  younger  men,  engaged  in 
keeping  the  long  line  in  motion.  Everywhere  there  is  a  glint 
of  polished  gun-barrels,  a  floating  of  party-colored  sashes,  a 
reckless  careering  to  and  fro,  a  wild  dash  and  scurry,  a  wav- 
ing of  blankets,  shouts,  dust,  noise,  and  confusion. 

As  the  day  advances,  the  march  becomes  more  toilsome. 


:  h;.    "*. 


;|^ 


HB 

i^          '''■ 

1"* 

1 

BBITIlKi;    1: 

HI  ii  1 

154 


T//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND, 


The  prairie,  freed  from  the  morning  dews  and  heated  by  the 
sun,  sends  up  dense  clouds  of  dust  from  beneath  the  tramp- 
ing hoofs,  half  concealing  the  long  caravan.  Oftentimes  the 
trail  passes  over  immense  tracts  ravaged  by  prairie-fires, 
where  the  earth  presents  naught  save  the  dense  coating  of 
black  ashes.  In  this  event  the  train  is  likely  to  be  com- 
pletely enshrouded  in  the  penetrating  dust,  filling  mouths, 
ears,  and  eyes,  with  its  pungent  particles,  and  discoloring 
everything  it  touches.  Animals  and  men  suffer  alike,  and 
the  cooling,  if  not  crystal,  waters  of  the  streams  and  creeks 
crossing  the  line  of  march  occasion  a  general  rush  for  relief. 
To  avoid  a  long-continued  trailing  of  dust — which  bids  fair 
to  suffocate  the  rear  end  of  the  train  in  the  event  of  a  slight 
wind  blowing,  as  is  nearly  always  the  case  upon  the  prairie — 
the  caravan  is  frequently  divided  into  four  or  five  columns, 
marching  parallel  with  one  another,  each  column  nearly  a 
mile  in  length.  When  the  march  assumes  this  form,  as  it 
nearly  always  does  when  the  lay  of  the  prairie  permits,  its 
picturesque  aspect  deepens,  and  progress  becomes  more 
rapid.  It  seems  like  the  serried  ranks  of  an  invading  army 
advancing  with  slow  but  certain  steps.  The  centre  column 
then  becomes  the  guide,  and  at  its  head  the  flag  of  march  is 
held  aloft. 

With  the  exception  of  a  short  halt  at  noon,  when  no  at- 
tempt at  camping  is  made,  the  columns  merely  halting  in  line 
and  loosing  the  animals  for  the  hour  during  which  dinner  is 
prepared,  the  march  continues  in  this  monotonous  but  pic- 
turesque fashion  until  an  early  hour  in  the  evening,  when  the 


n 


I 


THE  GREA  T  FALL  HUNT. 


155 


flag  of  the  guide  is  lowered  and  the  train  forms  the  night- 
camp.  One  by  one  the  carts  wheel  into  a  vast  circle,  oft- 
times  two  and  three  deep,  the  trains  of  each  vehicle  pointing 
inward,  until  the  complete  figure  is  formed.  The  animals, 
after  being  loosed,  are  turned  out  upon  the  prairie  until 
to  vard  night,  when  they  are  again  driven  within  the  circle. 
Another  smaller  line,  following  that  of  the  carts  and  leaving 
a  considerable  space  between  the  two  for  the  reception  of 
the  animals,  is  formed  by  the  tents,  each  with  its  camp-fire 
burning  before  it.  Directly  in  the  centre  of  the  camp  are 
pitched  the  tepees  of  the  chief  and  counselors,  in  order  to  be 
readily  accessible  for  consultation  at  all  times.  The  camp 
is  at  once  efficiently  policed,  and  the  best  of  order  prevails. 
The  tramp  of  the  day  produces  its  natural  effect,  and,  after 
supper  and  the  usual  season  of  fumigation,  the  bustle  and 
confusion  attendant  upon  so  vast  a  collection  of  men  and 
animals  die  out.  A  little  knot  of  the  older  hunters  perhaps 
linger  in  consultation  about  the  central  camp-fire  for  a  time  ; 
but  soon  naught  is  heard  save  the  tramping  of  horses  and 
oxen,  or  the  startled  exclamations  of  some  sleeper  suddenly 
aroused  by  the  unceremonious  entrance  of  a  wandering  ani- 
mal into  his  tent.  Not  even  the  vigilant  guard  is  to  be 
seen ;  but  let  any  one  attempt  to  leave  the  camp,  and 
shadowy  figures  will  arise  like  magic  from  the  grass  without 
the  circle,  barring  his  further  progress. 

At  earliest  dawn  the  march  is  again  resumed  ;  the  inci- 
dents of  one  day  being  but  a  repetition  of  that  preceding,  if 
sve  except  Sunday.     No  law  of  the  code,  perhaps,  is  less 


■^  ',■  V- 


':! 


156 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


seldom  violated  than  that  governing  the  observance  of  this 
day,  so  far  as  it  applies  to  the  labors  of  the  hunt.  The  letter 
of  the  law  is  strictly  observed  :  no  buffalo  are  run ;  but 
of  its  further  observance? — well,  let  us  see. 

The  camp  of  Saturday  night  is  located,  if  possible,  con- 
tiguous to  a  plentiful  supply  of  water,  and  amid  an  abundance 
of  buffalo-chips,  which  have  long  since  taken  the  place  of 
wood  as  fuel.  The  Sunday  breakfast  is  apt  to  be  a  late  one, 
and  eaten  at  leisure.  Immediately  after  it,  however,  the  en- 
tire camp  moves  as  one  man  a  short  distance  upon  the  prai- 
rie. It  frequently  happens  that  a  priest  is  with  the  party  ;  if 
not,  an  acolyte  celebrates  a  kind  of  open-air  mass,  the  whole 
assembly  kneeling  with  uncovered  heads  upon  the  level  plain 
during  its  continuance.  The  devotions  are  apparently  heart- 
felt and  solemn  ;  the  rattling  of  beadf^,  the  muttering  of  pray- 
ers, and  the  louder  response,  alone  breaking  the  Sabbath 
stillness.  No  Christian  church  in  the  city  presents  a  more 
devout  and  chastened  aspect.  The  wild,  reckless,  swearing 
hunter  of  an  hour  before  has  become  a  penitent  soul,  counting 
his  beads  with  a  look  of  pathetic  prayerfulness  affecting  to 
behold.  The  services  continue  an  hour  or  more,  but  the  de- 
vout assembly  stirs  not.  The  sun  gleams  down  upon  un- 
covered heads,  and  glances  into  unprotected  eyes,  powerless 
to  distract  attention  from  the  mass.  Thus  did  the  warlike 
Crusaders  pause  amid  their  tempestuous  lives  to  call  upon  the 
source  of  all  blessings  ;  so  did  the  Israelites  in  the  wilderness, 
bearing  about  the  Ark  of  the  Covenant.  The  plain-hunter's 
devoutness  arises  in  a  measure,   however,  from  the  fact  of 


THE  GREA  T  FALL  HUNT. 


157 


having  to  pray  for  all  the  rest  of  the  week  ;  for  on  the  inter- 
vening six  days  his  language  is  anything  but  that  of  prayer. 
All  things  have  an  end,  and  so  finally  has  the  mass,  for  which 
the  assembly  seem  more  than  ever  to  be  thankful,  and  betake 
themselves  to  camp  again  for  dinner. 

The  afternoon  is  not  given  to  devotion.  It  has  happened 
on  the  evenings  of  the  previous  march  that  Francois,  or 
Pascal,  or  Pierre,  has  paraded  the  camp,  shouting  in  stentorian 
tones,  "  I,  Pierre,  challenge  Francois  to  race  his  bay  horse 
against  my  grey,  the  stakes  to  be  horse  against  horse  !"  or,  "  I, 
Antoine,  challenge  the  camp  to  race  against  my  roan  for  an 
ox  and  cart !"  These  challenges  have  been  accepted,  hands 
shaken  in  confirmation  of  the  agreement,  and  the  race  ap- 
pointed to  take  place  the  following  Sunday  afternoon.  So  it 
occurs  that  a  sufficient  number  of  races  are  on  the  tapis  to 
occupy  the  entire  time. 

The  chief  is  now,  by  virtue  of  his  office,  the  umpire,  and 
lends  his  presence  to  render  the  sport  legitimate  and  of  ac- 
knowledged character.  What  was  once  governed  by  individual 
honor  is  now  enforced  by  law.  The  counselors  take  places  at 
either  end  of  the  course  as  judges.  The  police  are  present  to 
preserve  order  and  enforce  the  decisions  of  the  judges.  The 
camp  turns  out  en  masse  in  holiday  attire  to  witness  the  sport, 
and  all  is  excitement,  gesticulation,  shouting,  and  confusion. 
The  wagers  rapidly  change  hands  ;  ponies  and  carts  multiply 
upon  the  fortunate  winner  ;  favorite  runners  are  lost  to  others 
whose  almost  sole  dependence  rested  upon  them.  Many 
having  lost  ponies,   oxen,  carts,  and  runners,  by  racing  or 


158 


THE  GRF.A  T  FUR  LAA'D. 


gaml)ling,  now  stake  tlioir  own  services  as  servants  upon  the 
issue  of  a  final  race,  and  accept  defeat  with  the  philosophy  of 
stoics.  The  excitement  engended  by  the  sports  of  the  after- 
noon follows  the  hunter  on  his  return  to  camp,  and  the  day 
whicli  began  with  prayer  and  devotion  terminates  in  clamor, 
quarreling,  and  drink,  if  obtainable.  More  license  prevails 
than  is  allowed  upon  other  days,  and,  morally  considered,  the 
time  had  been  far  better  passed  in  the  usual  occupations  of 
the  hunt. 

As  the  hunt  a]iproaches  the  scene  of  its  labors  scouts  are 
daily  sent  out  to  ascertain,  if  possible,  the  direction  in  which 
the  large  herds  of  buffalo  are  feeding.  No  attention  is  paid 
to  the  small  bands  that  are  encountered  from  day  to  day,  and 
firing  at  them  is  strictly  forbidden.  The  object  is  to  encounter 
the  main  herds,  when  all  the  hunters  may  participate  in  the 
chase  with  equal  chances  of  success.  The  longing  for  fresh 
meat,  however,  becomes  at  times  too  much  for  half-breed  en- 
durance, and  to  gain  the  coveted  morsel,  and  avoid  infringing 
the  law,  an  amusing  method  of  capture  is  resorted  to. 

Two  active  hunters,  taking  in  their  hands  the  long  lines  of 
raw-hide,  called  "  shagnappe,"  isolate  a  cow  from  the  herd. 
Then,  seizing  eitlier  end  of  the  line,  they  proceed  to  revolve 
about  their  victim  in  opposite  directions,  so  entwining  her 
legs  in  the  folds  of  the  cord  as  to  throw  her  to  the  ground  by 
the  very  struggles  she  makes  to  escape.  Once  down,  a  few 
dexterous  twists  of  the  line  secure  her  head,  and  a  knife  fin- 
ishes the  work.  This  sport  furnishes  considerable  excitement, 
and  is  much  affected  as  a  relief  from  the  monotony  of  the 


THE  GREAT  FM.l.  /fUXT. 


'59 


daily  jog.     'rhcn,  too,  it  sui)])lii;s  what  is  likely  to  be  by  this 
time  a  much-needed  article — food.    Strange  as  it  may  appear, 
the  improvident  plain-hunter  scarcely  ever  begins  his  journey 
with  a  stock  of  provisions  sufficient  to  last  until  the  buffalo 
are  reached.     And  all  the  lessons  taught  by  years  of  experi- 
ence and  semi-annual  privation  and  suffering  have  failed  to 
impress  him  with  the  necessity  of  a  more  ample  supply.    Four 
or  five  days  out  from  the  camp  of  rendezvous,  frequently  in 
less  time,  half  the  train  is  invariably  destitute  of  food.     But 
little  appearance  of  it,  however,  is  presented  to  the  spectator. 
The  volatile  hunter  laughs  and  jokes  and  starves  with  a  sang- 
froid truly  admirable.     For  all  that,  he  borrows  of  his  neigh- 
bor, begs  piteously  for  his  children,  or,  when  absolutely  forced 
to  it,  kills  a  pony  or  ox  to  replace  the  provision  he  might  easily 
have  brought.    Before  this  stage  is  reached,  however,  in  nearly 
every  covered  cart  of  the  line  may  be  heavl  children  crying 
for  food,  and  wives  pleading  for  the  means  of  satisfying  them. 
At  length  the  scouts,  who  for  days  have  been  scouring  the 
prairie  in  every  direction,  bring  the  welcome  intelligence  of 
the  discovery  of  the  main  herds.     The  line  of  march  is  at 
once  turned  toward  the  point  indicated,  and  the  laws  against 
firing  and  leaving  the  main  body  are  rigidly  enforced.     The 
long  train  moves  cautiously  and  as  silently  as  possible.     Ad- 
vantage is  taken  of  depressions  in  the  prairie  to  keep  the  train 
concealed  from  the  buffalo,  and  not  a  sound  is  raised  that 
may  give  warning  of    its  presence.      Approach  is  made  as 
closely  as  may  be  compatible  with  safety,  always  kecjjing  to 
the  windward  of  the  herd.     Then,  if  a  convenient  locality  is 


m 


i6o 


THE  GREA  T  FUK  LAND. 


reached,  camp  is  made,  and  busy  preparations  for  the  ensuing 
hunt  begin.  Guns  are  carefully  scanned,  powder-flasks  and 
bullet-pouches  filled,  saddles  and  bridles  examined,  and,  above 
all,  the  horses  to  be  used  in  the  final  chase  carefully  groomei.. 
for  highest  among  his  possessions  the  plain-hunter  ranks  his 
"buffalo-runner."  It  is  to  him  like  the  Arab's  steed — a  daily, 
comrade  to  be  petted  and  spoken  to,  the  companion  of  his  long 
journeys,  and  the  means  of  his  livelihood. 

The  buffalo-runner  belongs  to  no  particular  breed,  the 
only  requisites  being  speed,  tact  in  bringing  his  rider  along- 
side the  retreating  herd  and  maintaining  a  certain  relative 
distance  while  there,  and  the  avoiding  the  numerous  pitfalls 
with  which  the  prairie  abounds.  Horses  well  trained  in 
these  duties,  and  possessing  the  additional  requisite  of  speed, 
command  high  prices  in  the  hunt,  often  ranging  from  fifty  to 
eighty  pounds  sterling.  On  the  hunt  they  are  seldom  used 
for  any  other  purpose  than  that  of  the  final  race,  except  it 
may  be  to  occasionally  draw  the  cart  of  madame  at  times 
when  her  neighbor  appears  in  unwonted  attire. 

Before  daybreak  on  the  following  morning — for  a  chase  is 
seldom  begun  late  in  the  day — the  great  body  of  hunters  are 
off  under  the  guidance  of  scouts  in  pursuit  of  the  main  herd. 
A  ride  of  an  hour  or  more  brings  them  within,  say,  a  mile  of 
the  buffalo,  which  have  been  moving  slowly  off  as  they  ap- 
proached. The  hunt  up  to  this  time  has  moved  in  four  col- 
umns, with  every  man  in  his  place.  As  they  draw  nearer  at 
a  gentle  trot,  the  immense  herd  breaks  into  a  rolling  gallop. 
Now  the  critical  and  long-desired  moment  has  arrived.    The 


THE  GREAT  FALL  HUNT. 


iCl 


chief  gives  the  signal.  "  Allee  !  allee  !  "  he  shouts,  and  a 
thousand  reckless  riders  dash  forward  at  a  wild  run.  Into 
the  herd  they  penetrate ;  along  its  sides  they  stretch,  the 
trained  horses  regulating  their  pace  to  that  of  the  moving 
mass  beside  them;  guns  flash,  shots  and  yells  resound;  the 
dust  arises  in  thick  clouds  over  the  struggling  band  ;  and  the 
chase  sweeps  rapidly  over  the  plain,  leaving  its  traces  behind 
in  the  multitude  of  animals  lying  dead  upon  the  ground,  or 
feebly  struggling  in  their  death-throes.  The  hunter  pauses 
not  a  moment,  but  loads  and  fires  with  the  utmost  rapidity, 
pouring  in  his  bullets  at  the  closest  range,  often  almost 
touching  the  animal  he  aims  at.  To  facilitate  the  rapidity 
of  his  fire  he  uses  a  flint-lock,  smooth-bore  trading-gun,  and 
enters  the  chase  with  his  mouth  filled  with  bullets.  A  hand- 
ful of  powder  is  let  fall  from  the  powder-horn,  a  bullet  is 
dropped  from  the  mouth  into  the  muzzle,  a  tap  with  the  butt- 
end  of  the  firelock  on  the  saddle  causes  the  salivated  bullet 
to  adhere  to  the  powder  during  the  moment  necessary  to  de- 
press the  barrel,  when  the  discharge  is  instantly  effected 
without  bringing  the  gun  to  the  shoulder. 

The  excitement  which  seizes  upon  the  hunter  at  finding 
himself  surrounded  by  the  long-sought  buffalo  is  intense, 
and  sometimes  renders  him  careless  in  examining  too  closely 
whether  the  object  fired  at  is  a  buffalo  or  a  buffalo-runner 
mounted  by  a  friend.  But  few  fatal  accidents  occur,  how- 
ever, from  the  pell-mell  rush  and  indiscriminate  firing;  but 
it  frequently  happens  that  guns,  as  the  result  of  hasty  and 
careless  loading,  explode,  carrying  away  part  of  the  hands 


'i''h 


162 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


using  them,  and  even  the  most  expert  runners  sometimes 
find  their  way  into  badger-holes,  breaking  or  dislocating  the 
collar-bones  of  the  riders  in  the  fall. 

The  identification  of  the  slain  animals  is  left  till  the  run  is 
over.  This  is  accomplished  by  means  of  marked  bullets,  the 
locdlity  in  which  the  buffalo  lies — for  which  the  hunter  always 
keeps  a  sharp  lookout — and  the  spot  where  the  bullet  en- 
tered. By  the  time  the  hunters  begin  to  appear,  returning 
from  the  chase,  there  have  arrived  long  trains  of  carts  from 
the  camp  to  cnry  back  the  meat  and  robes.  The  animals 
having  been  identified,  the  work  of  skinning  and  cutting  up 
begins,  in  which  the  women  and  children  participate.  In  a 
remarkably  brief  time  the  plain  is  strewed  with  skeletons 
stripped  of  flesh,  and  the  well-loaded  train  is  on  its  return. 
Arrived  at  camp,  the  robes  are  at  once  stretched  upon  a 
frame-work  of  poles,  and  the  greater  part  of  the  flesh  scraped 
from  them,  after  which  they  are  folded  and  packed  in  the 
carts  to  receive  the  final  dressing  in  the  settlement.  Of  the 
meat,  the  choicest  portions  are  packed  away  without  further 
care,  to  be  freighted  home  in  a  fresh  state,  the  cold  at  that 
late  season  effectually  preserving  it.  Large  quantities  are, 
however,  converted  into  pemmican,  in  which  shape  it  finds  its 
readiest  market. 

Pemmican  forms  the  principal  product  of  the  summer 
buffalo-hunt,  when,  to  preserve  from  decay  the  vast  quantities 
of  meat  taken,  some  artificial  process  is  necessary.  A  large 
amount  is  also  made  in  the  earlier  part  of  the  autumn  hunt. 
To  manufacture  pemmican  the  flesh  of  the  buffalo  is  first  cut 


THE  GREA  T  FALL  HUNT. 


163 


up  into  large  lumps,  and  then  again  into  flakes  or  thin  slices, 
and  hung  up  in  the  sun  or  over  the  fire  to  dry.  When  it  is 
thoroughly  desiccated  it  is  taken  down,  placed  upon  raw-hides 
spread  out  upon  the  prairie,  and  pounded  or  beaten  some- 
times by  wooden  flails,  again  between  two  stones,  until  the 
meat  is  reduced  to  a  thick,  flaky  substance  or  pulp.  Bags 
made  of  buffalo  hide,  with  the  hair  on  the  outside,  about  the 
size  of  an  ordinary  pillow  or  flour-sack,  say  two  feet  long,  one 
and  a  half  feet  wide  and  eight  incius  thick,  are  standing 
ready,  and  each  one  is  half  filled  with  the  powdered  meat. 
The  tallow  or  fat  of  the  buffalo,  having  been  boiled  by  itself 
in  a  huge  cauldron,  is  now  poured  hot  into  the  oblong  bag  in 
which  the  pulverized  meat  has  previously  been  placed.  The 
contents  are  then  stirred  together  until  they  have  been  thor- 
oughly mixed  ;  the  dry  pulp  being  soldered  down  into  a  hard 
solid  mass  by  the  melted  fat  poured  over  it.  When  full  the 
bags  are  sewed  up  as  tightly  as  possible,  and  the  pemmiran 
allowed  to  cool.  Each  bag  weighs  one  hundred  pounds,  the 
quantity  of  fat  being  nearly  half  the  total  weight,  the  whole 
composition  forming  the  most  solid  description  of  food  that 
man  can  make.  It  is  the  traveling  provision  used  through- 
out the  Fur  Lard,  wi  °re,  in  addition  to  its  already  specified 
qualifications,  it:-  jrtat  facility  of  transportation  renders  it  ex- 
tremely valuabk:.  There  is  no  risk  of  spoiling  it,  as,  if  or- 
dinary care  be  taken  to  keep  the  bags  free  from  mould-  there 
is  no  assignable  limit  to  the  time  pemmican  will  keep.  It  is 
estimated  that,  on  an  average,  the  carcasses  of  two  buffaloes 
are  required  to  make  one  bag  of  pemmican — one  filling  the 


ii 


164 


THE  ORE  A  T  FUR  LAND. 


bag  itself,  the  other  supplying  the  wants  of  the  wild  savage 
engaged  in  hunting  it  down. 

It  is  only  of  late  years  that  pemmican  has  come  into  pub- 
lic notice  as  a  condensed  food  valual^le  to  the  commissariat 
upon  long  expeditions.  Hitherto  it  has  been  a  provision 
peculiar  to  the  Fur  Land,  and  particularly  to  the  service  of 
the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  Notwithstanding  the  vast  an- 
nual slaughter  of  buffiilo  south  of  the  forty-ninth  parallel, 
no  pemmican  is  mace  there ;  the  meat  being  used  in  the  fresh 
or  green  state,  or  in  the  form  of  jerked  beef.  The  pemmican 
of  the  English  Arctic  expeditions  differs  from  the  real  article 
in  being  made  of  beef  mixed  with  raisins  and  spices,  and  pre- 
served from  decay  by  being  hermetically  sealed.  Buffalo  pem- 
mican .nay  be  said  to  keep  itself,  requiring  no  spices  or  sea- 
soning for  its  preservation,  and  may  be  kept  in  any  vessel 
and  under  any  conditions,  except  that  of  dampness,  for  un- 
limited time.  It  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  lorms  of  con- 
densed food  known,  and  is  excelled  by  no  other  provision 
in  its  satisfying  quality.  The  amount  of  it  used  through- 
out the  territory  is  almost  incredible,  as,  besides  the  enor- 
mous quantity  consumed  in  the  company's  service,  it 
appears,  when  attainable,  upon  the  table  of  every  li.^lf- 
breed  in  the  country.  So  essential  is  it  to  the  wants  of 
the  ik)yagcurs,  as  the  staple  article  of  food  upon  the  long 
voyages  made  in  the  transportation  service  of  the  company, 
that  its  manufacture  is  stimulated  in  every  way  by  the 
agents  of  that  corporation,  and  every  available  pound  is 
bought  up  for  ils  use.     Until  a  comparatively  late  year,  it 


lill 

iiiiiiiitii 


THE  GREA  T  FALL  HUNT. 


165 


was  the  only  article  embraced  in  the  trade-lists  for  which 
liquor  was  bartered. 

Another  form  of  provision,  also  the  product  of  the  sum- 
mer hunt  and  extensively  used,  is  dried  meat.  In  its  manu- 
facture the  flesh  of  the  buffalo  undergoes  the  same  treatment 
as  in  the  preparatory  stages  of  pemmican-making — when  it 
has  been  cut  into  thin  slices  it  is  hung  over  a  fire,  smoked 
and  cured.  It  resembles  sole-leather  very  much  in  appear- 
ance. After  being  thoroughly  dried,  it  is  packed  into  bales 
weighing  about  sixty  pounds  each,  and  shipped  all  over  the 
territory. 

The  serious  decrease  in  the  number  of  buffalo,  which 
has  been  observed  year  by  year,  threatens  to  produce  a  very 
disastrous  effect  upon  the  provision  trade  of  the  country;  and 
the  time  can  not  be  far  distant  when  some  new  provision 
must  be  found  to  take  the  place  of  the  old.  We  recollect 
very  well  when  pemmican,  which  now  can  be  procured  with 
difficulty  for  one  shilling  and  three  pence  a  pound,  could  be 
had  at  two  pence,  and  dried  meat  formerly  costing  two  pence 
now  costs  ten  pence.  This  is  a  fact  which  threatens  to  revolu- 
tionize in  a  manner  the  whole  business  of  the  territory,  but 
more  particularly  the  transport  service  of  the  company. 

The  camp,  which  has  for  days  been  on  the  verge  of  star- 
vation, after  the  return  of  the  hunters  from  the  chase  becomes 
a  scene  of  feasting  and  revelry  ;  and  gastronomic  feats  are 
performed  which  seem  incredible  to  those  unacquainted  with 
the  appetite  begotten  of  a  roving  life,  unlimited  fresh  air,  and 
the  digestible  nature  of  the  food.     As  with  the  daughters  of 


B 


m 


I  'ill 


I 


).'! 


By 


mm 


m 

■iii'iii 


I!  J!; 


M  li^ 


1 66 


TBE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


the  horse-leech,  there  is  a  continued  demand  for  more,  until 
the  consumption  of  tongues,  melting  hump,  and  dripping  ribs, 
bids  fair  to  threaten  the  entire  camp  with  immediate  asphyxia. 
All  night  long  the  feasting  continues  among  the  groups  formed 
about  the  camp-fires,  and  roastlag,  boiling,  and  stewing  are 
the  order  of  the  hour.  Were  the  supply  certain  to  be  ex- 
hausted on  the  morrow,  the  consumption  would  go  on  just 
the  same,  the  improvident  hunter  entertaining  no  idea  of  re- 
serving of  present  excess  for  future  scarcity.  Happily,  the 
supply  is  abundant,  for  it  sometimes  happens  that  the  carts 
are  fully  loaded  with  meat  in  a  single  chase.  In  that  event, 
the  major  part  of  them  are  at  once  started  homeward  in 
charge  of  boys  and  the  younger  men,  while  the  hunters  fol- 
low up  the  herd  to  obtain  a  further  supply  of  robes.  A  view 
of  the  prairie,  after  a  run  in  which  the  acquisition  of  robes  is 
the  sole  object,  reveals  the  enormous  waste  of  life  which  an- 
nually occurs.  The  plain  for  miles  is  covered  with  the  car- 
casses of  buffalo  from  which  nothing  has  been  taken  save  the 
hides,  tongues,  and  it  may  be  the  more  savory  portions  of  the 
hump  ;  the  "em  ".irxder  being  left  to  the  wolves  and  carrion- 
birds.  Should  the  first  run  fail  to  secure  a  sufficient  supply 
of  meat,  however,  the  chase  is  continued  until  the  comple- 
ment is  obtained,  each  hunter  starting  his  carts  homeward  as 
they  are  filled. 

In  such  manner  has  the  work  of  the  semi-annual  hunts 
been  conducted  for  over  half  a  century,  and  in  the  same  way 
will  it  continue,  growing  less  in  importance  yearly,  until  the 
last  buffalo  shall  have  ceased  to  exist.     Their  importance  in 


THE  GREA  T  FALL  HUNT. 


i6y 


the  years  gone  by  can  hardly  be  over-estimated.     They  have 
furnished  the  main  support  of  a  population  numbering  ten 
thousand  souls,  and  furnished   the  trade  with  a  great  part  of 
Its  annual  supplies  of  robes  and  furs.     An  enterprising  and 
flounshmg  province  is  springing  up  about  the   site  of  the 
little  colony  of  hunters,  rendered  all  the  more  easy  of  estab- 
hshment  by  the  stability  and  wealth  derived  from  the  chase 
But.  unfortunately,  the  older  nomads  are  crowd.^  by  this 
civilization.     They  belong  to  a  race  apart,  and  are  scared  by 
fences  and  enclosures,  as  if  they  confined  even  the  free  air 
within  bounds  and  limits.     Gradually  they  retire  before  it, 
following  the  buffalo  closer  and  closer  to  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains, until  finally  both  will  disappear  together. 


i 

if 


CHAPTER    VIII. 


THE    FRATERNITY   OF    MEDICINE-MEN. 


I 


w 


m .  i 


'nr^O  the  traveler  detained  long  at  a  trading-post  of  the 
•*•  Hudson's  Bay  Company,  the  monotony  of  the  exist- 
ence becomes  irksome  in  the  extreme.  The  scenery  about 
the  stockade  is  generally  limited  to  a  boundless  view  of  the 
level  prairie  on  three  sides,  and  a  meagre  one  of  the  river  on 
whose  banks  it  stands.  The  daily  routine  of  life  within  the 
walls,  which  contributes  to  distract  the  attention  of  the  post 
officials,  comes  to  have  an  appalling  sameness  to  the  mere 
looker-on.  It  is  then  that  the  consumption  of  tobacco  be- 
comes something  alarming,  and  that  the  mind  grasps  at  the 
most  trivial  incident  as  a  means  of  appeasing  its  weariness. 
The  fit  of  one's  moccasins  is  a  matter  to  be  thought  seri- 
ously about,  and  the  composition  of  one's  dinner  is  a  subject 
of  deep  contemplation. 

This  hibernal  torpor,  as  it  may  be  called,  generally  sets 
in  more  acutely  in  the  autumnal  months,  when  the  increas- 
ing cold  half  locks  the  rivers  in  ice,  forbidding  the  use  of 
canoe  or  boat,  and  drives  the  sportsman  from  the  plains  with 
its  frigid  breath.  It  continues  with  but  little  cessation 
until  midwinter,  when  trappers  and  Indians  arrive  with  the 
first  of  the  winter's  catch  of  furs.     True,  there  are  occasional 


■■^^■^t 


THE  FRA  TERNITY  OF  MEDICINE-MEN. 


169 


times  of  bustle,  created  by  the  arrivals  and  departures  which 
constantly  take  place  in  a  country  where  locomotion  may  be 
said  to  be  the  normal  condition  of  the  people.  But  this 
temporary  excitement  only  serves  to  plunge  one  into  corre- 
sponding depths  of  depression  when  it  is  over,  and  the  same- 
ness of  the  life  afterward  becomes  absolutely  funereal.  Every- 
thing readable  in  the  scanty  library  is  read  so  often  that  it 
seems  to  one  as  if  he  could  close  his  eyes  and  repeat  the 
whole  collection  verbatim  ;  the  acquaintance  of  all  the  live- 
stock is  cultivated  until  one  may  be  said  to  possess  the  inti- 
macy of  every  dog  and  cat  in  the  post,  and  the  autobiographies 
of  all  the  officers  and  servants  are  heard  so  repeatedly  that 
one  feels  competent  to  reproduce  them  in  manuscript  in  the 
event  of  their  decease. 

Fortunately,  during  this  season  of  inactivity  occurs  the 
annual  celebration  of  a  festival  peculiar  to  a  mystic  brother- 
hood permeating  the  nomadic  peoples  round  about.  Each 
autumn  the  fraternity  of  medicine-men  celebrate  the  dog- 
feast  in  the  vicinity  of  the  principal  trading-stations. 

An  inclosure  about  forty  feet  long  by  twenty-five  broad, 
fenced  in  with  branches  of  trees,  is  laid  off  on  the  prairie. 
It  is  situated  due  east  and  west,  and  has  an  opening  in  either 
end  for  purposes  of  entrance  and  exit.  The  ceremony  occu- 
pies two  or  three  days,  during  which  the  ground  in  the  inte- 
rior of  the  inclosure  is  covered  with  savages,  who  sit  along- 
side each  other,  drawn  up  close  inside  the  fence.  In  a  line 
running  lengthways  through  the  centre  are  erected  perpen- 
dicular poles,  with  large  stones  at  their  bases,  both  stones 
8 


I70 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


and  poles  covered  red  over  different  portions  of  their  surfaces 
by  the  blood  of  the  dog-sacrifice.  The  animals  are  selected 
and  killed,  and,  after  lying  exposed  on  the  stones  beside  the 
poles  during  the  pertormance  of  certain  ceremonies  by  the 
medicine-men — whose  medicine-bags,  composed  of  the  skins 
of  wild  animals,  form  an  important  feature  of  the  ceremony — 
are  cooked  and  eaten.  The  dog-meat,  when  prepared,  pre- 
sents a  very  uncouth  and  repulsive  appearance,  as  it  is  borne 
from  man  to  man  in  shapeless  trenchers  that  each  may  select 
the  portion  he  intends  to  devour. 

To  the  casual  spectator  such  a  ceremony  as  the  dog-feast 
seems  a  confused  conglomeration  of  frivolous  rites  and 
genuflections,  destitute  alike  of  meaning  and  design.  One 
might  be  tempted  to  believe  that  the  principal  and  most 
rational  object  of  the  assemblage  was  to  eat  the  dogs.  In- 
quiry, however,  of  any  well-informed  resident  of  the  country, 
elicits  the  reply  that  the  unfortunate  beings  are  assembled 
for  what,  in  their  eyes,  is  the  celebration  of  a  solemn  act  of 
communion  with  the  spirits.  That  such  communion  is  real 
has  been  believed,  to  our  knowledge,  by  many  clergymen  and 
priests  in  the  Indian  country,  though,  of  course,  their  theory 
is  that  it  exists  with  the  powers  of  darkness.  It  probably 
lies  much  with  the  accidental  bias  of  each  man's  mind, 
whether  he  inclines  to  so  serious  a  view  of  these  barbarous 
proceedings,  or  mentally  attributes  to  them  much  the  same 
amount  of  spiritual  efficacy  which  he  would  to  the  fantastic 
contortions  of  some  Eastern  devotee. 

The  nominal  object  of  this  feast  is  to  make  medicine. 


THE  FRATERNITY  OF  MEDICINE-M EN. 


171 


What  medicine  this  is,  we  are  unable  to  state  with  precision. 
The  Indians  have  many  medicines,  composed  for  the  most 
part  of  roots,  and  sometimes  possessed  of  real  medicinal  vir- 
tue. Sarsaparilla,  for  instance,  is  used  by  them.  Some  are 
said  to  be  highly  poisonous,  and  even  to  exercise  what  we 
presume  would  to  a  physician  appear  an  unaccountable  effect. 
The  permanent  contortion  of  feature,  the  growth  of  hair  over 
the  entire  body,  the  eruption  of  black,  ineffaceble  blotches  on 
the  skin,  are  alleged  to  be  the  consequences  of  partaking  of 
some  of  them,  either  by  swallowing  or  inhaling  their  fumes. 
Frequent  examples  of  the  results  above  cited  have  come 
under  our  own  personal  observation,  and  we  can  vouch  for 
the  effect  produced. 

There  was  employed  at  one  time,  as  a  servant  in  the  fam- 
ily, a  Salteaux  girl,  of  about  twenty  years  of  age.  As  a  natural 
result  of  her  presence  about  the  establishment,  numerous  In- 
dians of  both  sexes,  claiming  ties  of  consanguinity  of  more  or 
less  remoteness,  daily  besieged  the  culinary  department  of 
our  domestic  economy.  The  matter  became  unbearable, 
finally,  as  it  often  occurred  that  the  kitchen-floor  was  nearly 
covered  with  the  squatting  relatives.  The  girl  was  ordered 
to  refuse  admittance  to  any  being,  of  either  sex,  habited  in  a 
blanket.  It  happened  that  the  first  candidate  presenting 
himself  for  admittance  after  the  receipt  of  this  prohibitory 
order  was  an  old  conjurer,  or  medicine-man.  The  door  was 
unceremoniously  shut  in  his  face.  He  lingered  about,  how- 
ever, until  some  duty  called  the  girl  outside  the  door,  when, 
after  threatening  her  with  dire  revenge,  he  took  his  departure. 


172 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


nil! 


The  poor  domestic  was  much  alarmed,  and  reported  his 
threats.  Little  attention  was  paid  to  it,  and  the  winter  passed 
away  without  a  further  call  from  the  conjurer. 

In  the  early  spring,  the  girl  by  some  accident  cut  her 
hand  slightly — not  sufficiently  deep,  however,  to  necessitate 
binding  up.  Before  it  healed,  she  was  one  day  engaged  in 
carrying  water  from  an  adjacent  stream,  when  the  conjurer 
unexpectedly  approached  her.  Professing  to  have  forgotten 
his  ejection  of  the  previous  winter,  he  proffered  his  hand  in 
a  friendly  way  to  the  girl,  who  thoughtlessly  gave  him  in  re- 
turn the  wounded  member.  He  shook  it  a  long  time,  squeez- 
ing it  tightly  in  his  own.  The  sore  smarted  considerably, 
and  upon  withdrawing  her  hand  by  reason  of  the  pain,  she 
noticed  some  dark  substance  in  the  palm  of  the  conjurer's 
hand.  The  thought  then  occurred  to  her  that  he  had  poi- 
soned the  sore.  She  was  assured  of  it  by  the  medicine- 
man, who  informed  her  that  she  would  break  out  in  black 
blotches  for  one  month  in  each  year,  ever  afterward.  One 
year  from  that  date  black  eruptions  appeared  over  her  entire 
body,  each  spot  about  the  size  of  a  dime  silver  coin.  They 
continued  upon  her  person,  without  any  severe  pain,  for  one 
month,  when  they  disappeared.  For  three  successive  years 
— as  long  as  we  had  knowledge  of  her — the  eruptions  oc- 
curred regularly,  and  continued  for  the  allotted  time. 

Among  the  visiting  Indians  who  called  perennially  at  our 
kitchen-door  during  the  winter  months,  was  a  middle-aged 
woman  suffering  from  a  loss  of  power  to  move  the  facial 
muscles.     This  incapacity  was  brought  on,  according  to  her 


m 


THE  FRATERNITY  OF  MEDICINE-MEN. 


'73 


own  testimony,  and  that  of  others  cognizant  of  the  circum- 
stances, some  five  years  before  our  first  acquaintance  with 
her,  by  certain  drugs  administered  by  a  conjurer.  These 
medicines  were  given  her  to  produce  that  effect  alone,  with- 
out reference  to  the  prevention  or  cure  of  other  diseases,  and 
were  taken  without  her  knowledge,  being  mingled  surrepti- 
tiously with  her  food.  The  effect  soon  showed  itself  in  a 
total  loss  of  power  in  the  facial  muscles.  She  became  as 
expressionless  as  a  mask.  Only  the  eyes  moved ;  and,  as 
they  were  intensely  black  and  rather  sparkling  eyes,  the 
ghastly  deformity  was  rendered  the  more  glaring.  The  most 
singular  effect  was  produced,  however,  by  her  laugh.  She 
was  a  jolly,  good-natured  squaw,  and  laughed  upon  the  slight- 
est provocation.  Her  eyes  sparkled,  and  her  '*  Ha  !  ha  !  " 
was  musical  to  a  degree ;  but  not  a  muscle  moved  to  denote 
the  merriment  on  that  expressionless  face.  One  felt  that 
some  one  else  laughed  behind  that  rigid  integument,  and 
was  fain  to  pull  it  off,  and  see  the  dimples  and  curves  it  con- 
cealed. The  sensation  was  that  of  being  in  the  presence  of 
an  enigma  one  could  not  comprehend.  No  idea  could  be 
formed  of  what  she  thought  at  any  time ;  but  when  she  waxed 
merry  her  countenance  was  more  than  ever  a  death-mask. 

As  to  the  growth  of  hair  over  the  body,  we  have  heard  of 
but  one  instance  of  it.  That  was  an  old  man  from  a  tribe 
dwelling  in  the  swamps  and  marshes.  He  was  entirely  cov- 
ered with  a  thick  coating  of  hair  nearly  an  inch  in  length. 
Only  about  the  eyes  was  there  any  diminution  in  the  quantity, 
where  for  nearly  an  inch  in  a  circle  there  was  no  hair.     He 


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Ua 


174 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND, 


attributed  the  phenomenon  to  a  decoction  of  certain  herbs 
given  him  by  a  medicine-man  whom  he  had  mortally  offended. 
His  family,  so  far  as  we  heard  of  them,  were  innocent  of  any 
hirsute  covering. 

In  a  family  of  three  Cree  Indians  of  advanced  age,  a  sis- 
ter and  two  brothers,  named  respectively  Sallie,  Creppe,  and 
Hornie,  living  near  Fort  Pelly,  perhaps  the  strangest  effects 
of  the  medicine-man's  drugs  appeared.  These  old  people 
had  been  poisoned  in  early  youth,  with  a  different  effect  in 
each  case.  Sallie,  who  was  a  hanger-on  about  the  kitchen, 
lost  the  nails  of  her  fingers  and  toes  regularly  every  year  at 
the  season  when  birds  moult  their  feathers.  This  phenome- 
non had  never  failed  to  occur  annually  since  the  medicine 
had  been  taken  in  infancy.  There  was  but  little  pain  con- 
nected with  this  shedding  of  the  nails,  and  they  soon  grew 
out  again.  Her  brother  Creppe  was  afflicted  with  an  erup- 
tion of  warts  over  his  entire  person,  and  was  altogether  as 
hideous  a  looking  object  as  could  well  be  imagined.  The 
divisions  of  his  fingers  and  toes  were  hidden  by  these  mon- 
strous excrescences ;  from  his  ears  depended  warts  nearly  an 
inch  in  length ;  in  fact,  he  was  covered  with  them  all  over 
except  his  eyes.  At  certain  seasons  of  the  year  they  became 
very  painful,  and  deprived  him  of  the  power  of  locomotion. 

But  in  the  case  of  Hornie — a  name  conferred  by  some 
facetious  Scotch  trader,  in  allusion  to  a  fancied  resemblance 
to  his  Satanic  majesty — the  effects  of  the  poison  were  of  quite 
another  character.  Hornie's  hair  was  simply  changed  from  a 
generally  deep  black  to  alternate  streaks  of  black  and  white. 


i^     : 


THE  FRATERNITY  OF  MEDICINE-MEN. 


175 


These  streaks  were  about  an  inch  in  width,  and  ran  from  the 
forehead  to  the  back  of  the  head.  The  line  of  demarcation 
between  the  two  colors  was  very  abrupt  and  distinct ;  the 
white  color  being  the  purest  that  can  be  imagined.  There 
was  no  gradual  merging  from  iron-grey  to  grey,  thence  to 
white ;  it  was  the  whiteness  of  unsullied  snow  throughout  the 
streak.     And  it  never  changed. 

We  do  not  feel  that  strangers  to  the  subject  of  which  we 
write  will  receive  these  mcidents  with  the  confidence  which 
they  deserve,  nor  even  that  those  who  are  somewhat  familiar 
with  the  actual  circumstances  will  admit  every  inference  to 
be  drawn  to  be  the  living  truth ;  but  our  own  assurance  is 
so  clear  and  strong  that  we  c.in  only  judge  the  critic  by  his 
judgment  of  it.  We  know  what  we  assert,  and  are  upon 
honor  with  the  reader. 

Medical  gentlemen  in  the  country  have  differed  in  their 
opinions  as  to  the  ability  of  Indians  to  cause  the  above-de- 
scribed symptoms;  and,  so  far  as  we  can  gather,  the  subject 
is  a  difficult  one,  and  resolves  itself  more  into  a  question  of 
evidence  of  facts  than  of  the  medicinal  property  of  the  roots 
and  drugs. 

We  were  once  furnished  an  opportunity  of  examining  at 
our  leisure  the  contents  of  many  medicine-bags  at  a  certain 
Indian  mission  station  in  the  northern  country.  These  bags  had 
formerly  been  the  property  of  sundry  medicine-men,  who,  on 
their  conversion  to  Christianity,  had  transferred  them  to  the 
keeping  of  the  reverend  missionary.  There  was  a  large  col- 
lection of  them  thrown  promiscuously  upon  the  floor  of  a 


■w 


;       m 


Hi 


176 


T//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


small  out-building.  The  bags  were,  for  the  most  part,  formed 
of  the  skins  of  various  wild  beasts  in  embryotic  state,  taken 
off  whole,  and  so  stuffed  as  to  retain  as  much  as  possible  the 
natural  position  of  the  animal.  They  had  evidently  served 
as  the  totems  of  the  owners.  The  contents  of  these  primi- 
tive medicine-chests  were  as  varied  as  the  most  enthusiastic 
curio  could  desire.  Each  article  was  wrapped  carefully  in  a 
separate  parcel  by  itself,  with  the  inner  bark  of  the  birch- 
tree,  and  'iuly  labeled  as  to  its  contents  with  totemic  sym- 
bols. An  unwrapping  of  these  packages  resulted  in  the  dis- 
covery of  an  extensive  assortment  of  ingredients.  There 
were  dried  herbs  of  many  different  varieties — bark  and 
leaves  of  strange  plants  and  trees ;  white  and  orange-colored 
powders  of  the  finest  quality,  and  evidently  demanding  skill 
in  their  preparation;  claws  of  animals  and  talons  of  birds; 
colored  feathers  and  beaks  ;  a  few  preserved  skins  and  teeth 
of  reptiles ;  but  a  total  absence  of  liquids  or  any  vessels  that 
could  be  used  to  carry  them.  There  were  several  pLints, 
packages  of  which  were  found  in  every  bag;  but  the  majority 
differed  greatly,  and  the  materia  medica  of  each  practitioner 
seemed  to  be  the  result  of  individual  choice  and  research. 
One  thing,  however,  was  common  to  all — the  small  package 
of  human  finger  and  toe  nails.  Of  what  peculiar  significa- 
tion they  were,  or  used  in  what  malady,  we  are  unable  to 
state. 

Among  the  other  contents  of  the  medicine-bags,  and  com- 
mon to  all,  were  small  images  of  wood,  the  presence  of  which 
was  considered  essential  to  the  proper  efficacy  of  the  drugs. 


I!l 


THE  FRATERNITY  OF  MEDICINE-MEN. 


177 


which 
drugs. 


This  was  the  real  totem  which  presided  over  the  effectual  use 
of  the  ingredients,  and  represented  the  guardian  spirit  of  the 
owner.  The  Indians  believe  every  animal  to  have  had  a 
great  original  or  father.  The  first  buffalo,  the  first  bear,  the 
first  beaver,  the  first  eagle,  etc.,  was  the  Manitou  or  guardian 
spirit  of  the  whole  race  of  these  different  creatures.  They 
chose  some  one  of  these  originals  as  their  special  Manitou,  or 
guardian  ;  and  hence  arose  the  custom  of  having  its  represen- 
tation as  the  totem  of  an  entire  tribe.  But  the  medicine- 
men being,  as  it  were,  the  priests  of  the  spirits,  and  mediums 
between  them  and  the  world,  are  entitled  to  a  special  guar- 
dian spirit  of  their  own,  and  hence  carry  his  totem  among 
their  drugs.  As  they  profess  to  heal  through  the  direction  of 
this  spirit  or  guardian,  they  very  properly  place  his  image 
among  the  means  he  commands  to  be  used. 

These  images  were,  as  a  matter  of  course,  of  limited  size 
and  rough  workmanship.  Their  designs  were  various,  and 
represented  different  animalb,  birds,  reptiles,  the  human  figure 
in  strange  attitudes,  the  sun  and  moon,  and  combinations  of 
all  these  in  many  forms.  Whatever  they  held  to  be  superior 
to  themselves,  they  deified  ;  but  they  never  exalted  it  much 
above  humanity,  and  these  images  never  betrayed  the  ex- 
pression of  a  conception  of  a  supernatural  being  on  the  part 
of  their  owners. 

But,  whatever  may  have  been  the  value  of  the  contents  of 
these  medicine-bags,  certain  it  is  that  a  fraternity  of  medicine- 
men exists  among  the  Indians,  and  that  those  without  its 

pale  look  with  great  awe  upon  the  power  of  its  members. 
8* 


,  Ml 

1 

I 


1  i  . 
It 

II 


J   'I 


178 


T//£  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


The  latter  are  the  great  actors  in  the  dog-feasts.  They  make 
medicine  for  the  recovery  of  the  sick,  who  apply  for  their  as- 
sistance, and  initiate  novices  into  the  mysteries  of  the  frater- 
nity. In  payment  for  each  exercise  of  these  offices,  a  remu- 
neration of  some  value  is  required  ;  the  charges  being,  like 
those  of  many  of  the  medical  profession,  in  proportion  to  the 
wealth  of  the  patient.  In  many  cases  it  happens  that, 
through  a  pretty  thorough  knowledge  of  the  virtues  of  certain 
herbs,  a  firm  determination  on  the  part  of  the  sufferer  not  to 
die,  and  a  constitution  inured  to  noxious  lotions  of  every 
kind,  the  medicine-man  effects  a  cure.  Some  of  his  cures 
and  specifics  are  wonderful,  too. 

We  recall  to  memory  a  certain  bufTalo-hunt  in  which  we 
once  participated,  accompanying  a  French-Indian  family. 
Among  the  members  of  this  nomadic  domestic  circle  was  a 
young  woman  about  nineteen  years  of  age,  and  of  very  strong 
physique.  It  happened  one  day  that,  in  drawing  a  loaded 
shot-gun  from  the  cart  by  the  muzzle,  the  charge  exploded,  and 
passed  entirely  through  her  body  in  the  region  of  the  chest. 
The  gun  being  not  over  twenty  inches  distant  from  her  per- 
son when  discharged,  the  shot  left  a  hole  through  which 
one's  finger  could  be  thrust.  We  were  tented  on  the  plain, 
hundreds  of  miles  from  settlements,  and  totally  destitute 
alike  of  medical  knowledge  and  remedies.  The  girl  was  given 
up  for  lost,  of  course.  Near  our  own  camp,  however,  were  a 
few  lodges  of  Indians,  and  among  them,  as  usual,  a  medicine- 
man. The  report  of  the  accident  soon  reaching  the  Indian 
tepees^  this  conjurer  stalked  over  to  our  tents,  and  looked 


' 


strong 
oaded 

ed,  and 
chest. 

ler  per- 
which 
plain, 
stitute 

IS  given 
were  a 
dicine- 
Indian 
looked 


THE  FRATERNITY  OF  MEDICINE-MEN. 


1 79 


without;  comment  for  a  time  upon  the  unskilled  effort';  being 
made  for  the  sufferer's  relief.  At  length  he  addressed 
the  father  of  the  girl,  offering  to  cure  her  if  she  was  intrusted 
to  his  care.  Clutching  at  this  straw,  in  the  absence  of  any 
better  thing,  with  the  girl's  consent  the  father  accepted  the 
proposal ;  and  the  patient  was  transferred  to  the  lodge  of  the 
medicine-man.  Strange  as  it  may  appear,  the  woman  re- 
covered after  a  time,  under  the  drugs  and  care  of  the  con- 
jurer, and  was  able  to  return  home  with  us  at  the  termination 
of  the  hunt.  We  saw  her  some  years  after,  and  she  expressed 
herself  as  enjoying  perfect  health.  The  payment  for  effecting 
this  cure  was,  if  we  recollect  aright,  two  Indian  ponies, 
which,  it  is  needless  to  say,  were  cheerfully  paid. 

On  his  initiation  into  the  mysteries  of  the  brotherhood, 
the  candidate,  besides  paying  the  medicine-men  a  fair  price, 
must  be  a  man  known  to  the  adepts  as  eligible.  This  eligi- 
bility consists,  it  has  been  contended,  in  physical  perfection 
alone;  but,  having  known  conjurers  who  were  deformed  from 
birth,  and  others  maimed  at  the  time  of  their  initiation,  we 
incline  to  the  opinion  that  mental  characteristics  are  those 
most  closely  examined.  A  certain  dignity  of  appearance,  a 
severe  and  mysterious  manner,  and  a  more  than  usual  taci- 
turnity and  secretiveness  in  the  candidate,  are  favorably  con- 
sidered. Different  tribes,  however,  or,  it  may  be,  different 
schools  of  medicine,  have  their  distinct  methods  of  initia- 
tion. 

The  most  curious  initial  ceremony  coming  to  our  knowl- 
edge was  that  of  a  tribe  in  the  far  North.     The  candidate 


I      ; 


m 


i8o 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


^m 


'  Mil  ! 


Il  # 


was  required  to  repair  to  the  forests  for  a  certain  number  of 
days,  to  be  passed  in  fasting,  until,  from  extreme  physical 
privation,  he  should  be  wrought  up  to  close  communion  with 
the  spirits.  He  then  returned,  and  entered  the  pale  of  the 
fence  marking  the  limits  of  the  dog-feast,  to  be  at  once  sur- 
rounded by  a  circle  of  conjurers  and  bruves  of  his  tribe,  who 
indulged  in  a  wild  dance.  In  the  midst  of  this  dance  a  live 
dog  (white  in  color,  if  to  be  had)  was  brought  within  the  cir- 
cle by  the  instructing  medicine-man,  and  handed  to  the  no- 
vitiate. Seizing  the  sacrificial  canine  by  the  neck  and  a  hind- 
leg,  the  candidate  finished  his  initiation  by  devouring  the 
animal  alive.  The  spectacle  of  this  poor  wretch,  his  face 
covered  with  blood,  the  howls  and  contortions  of  the  suffer- 
ing animal,  and  the  yelling,  dancing  demons-  circling  about 
in  their  monotonous  dance,  was  appalling  to  the  last  degree. 
The  dogs  consumed  were  generally  of  small  size,  but  in  some 
instances  large  ones  were  given,  and  the  neophyte  was  in  a 
gorged  and  semi-dormant  condition  at  the  termination  of  his 
repast. 

With  some  few  orders  of  medicine-men  physical  torture 
in  the  initiation  obtains.  The  candidate,  to  cure  others, 
must  be  a  perfect  physical  man  himself;  and,  as  he  may  oc- 
casion pain  to  his  patients,  must  be  able  to  endure  it  without 
murmur  in  his  own  person.  At  an  appointed  time  he  appears 
before  a  medicine-man,  who  cuts  four  gashes  about  three 
inches  long  on  the  shoulders  near  the  point.  With  a  smooth 
stick  of  hard  wood  he  makes  a  hole  underneath  the  slits  he 
has  cut,  taking  in  an  inch  or  more  in  width,  and  through 


THE  FRATERNITY  OF  MEDICINE-MEN. 


I8l 


\ 


which  a  buffalo-thong  is  passed  and  tightly  tied.  Then  the 
breast  is  served  in  the  same  manner.  After  this  one  thong 
is  fastened  to  a  long  pole,  the  other  to  a  buffalo-skull,  or 
other  heavy  weight,  with  about  ten  feet  of  rope  between  the 
back  and  skull.  The  candidate  then  jumps  into  a  lively 
dance,  singing  a  song  in  keeping  with  the  performance,  and 
jerking  the  skull  about  so  fast  that  at  times  it  is  four  or  five 
feet  from  the  ground,  all  the  time  pulling  as  best  he  can  at 
the  thong  fastened  to  the  pole  by  jumping  back  and  swing- 
ing upon  it.  At  times  the  flesh  on  back  and  breast  seems  to 
stretch  eight  or  ten  inches,  and,  when  let  up,  closes  down 
again  with  a  pop.  This  dancing  and  racing  continues  un*il 
the  flesh-fastenings  break.  The  novitiate  is  by  that  time  a 
terrible  looking  object,  and  so  nearly  exhausted  that  he  has 
to  be  helped  away.  His  wounds  are  washed  and  bound  up, 
presents  are  made  to  him,  and  he  is  themeforth  recognized 
as  a  medicine- man. 

A  fast  of  ten  days'  duration  has  been  stated  to  us,  on 
oral  and  trustworthy  testimony,  as  a  necessary  preliminary 
among  some  tribes  to  becomipf?  a  conjurer.  During  the  time 
indicated  the  candidate  sleeps  among  the  branches  of  a  tree, 
where  a  temporary  residence  has  been  fitted  up  for  him. 
His  dreams  are  carefully  treasured  up  in  his  recollection, 
and  he  believes  that  the  spirits  who  are  afterward  to  become 
his  familiars  then  reveal  themselves  to  him.  Indeed,  this 
intent  watching  for  his  spiritual  familiars  is  the  principal 
object  of  his  retirement  and  fast.  He  is  taught  to  believe  in 
two  kinds  of  spirits,  one  eminently  good,  the  other  emi- 


f,i 


M 


I  'I 

1 


182 


r^^  C/'^/J  T  FUR  LAND. 


nently  evil.  But  the  latter  are  inferior  in  power  to  the 
former.  The  good  spirits  are  his  guardians  and  familiars,  yet 
he  may  use  the  devices  of  the  evil  ones  if  he  so  desire 
Every  accident  of  life  with  a  medicine-man  is  accounted  for 
by  spiritual  agency.  An  amusing  incident  may  serve  to 
show  the  extent  to  which  this  belief  may  be  carried  : 

A  small  company  of  Indians  drifted  into  our  premises, 
one  winter's  day  for  the  purpose  of  begging  provisions. 
Among  the  number  were  several  noted  conjurers.  Some 
freak  of  curiosity  tempted  us  to  try  how  far  their  belief  in 
the  supernatural  would  carry  them;  and,  having  a  large 
music-box  in  our  possession,  it  was  wound  up  and  placed 
unnoticed  upon  the  table.  In  a  moment  it  began  playing, 
and  the  notes  of  "Bonnie  Doon,"  "The  Lass  o'  Gowrie," 
etc.,  reverberated  through  the  apartment.  At  its  first  chords 
the  faces  of  the  savages  assumed  a  wondering,  dazed  expres- 
sion. But,  quickly  recovering  from  that  phase  of  amaze- 
ment, they  began  to  trace  the  sound  to  its  origin.  After 
some  minutes  of  deep  attention,  one  old  man  evidently  dis- 
covered the  source,  and  without  a  moment's  hesitation  raised 
his  guu  and  fired  it  at  the  box.  It  is  perhaps  unnecessary 
to  mention  that  the  instrument  was,  to  use  a  nautical  expres- 
sion, "  a  total  wreck."  The  conjurer  asserted  that  the 
music  was  produced  by  an  evil  spirit  concealed  in  the  box, 
and  could  only  be  driven  out  by  a  gunshot.  Our  curiosity 
was  satisfied,  but  at  a  considerable  expense. 

For  whole  nights  previous  to  the  public  and  final  cere- 
mony of  the  dog-feast,  the  principal  medicine-man,  installed 


f  r  :f- 


'i 


f 


THE  FRATERNITY  OF  MEDICINE-MEN. 


183 


in  his  medicine-tent,  instructs  his  pupils.  The  quaint  party 
is  accompanied  by  an  individual  who  beats  the  medicine- 
drum,  the  monotonous  tones  of  which  are  kept  up  during  the 
whole  time  the  lesson  continues.  What  special  branch  of 
medical  science  is  instilled  into  the  minds  of  pupils  we  do 
not  know.  It  is  probably  but  a  lesson  in  incantation  or 
some  senseless  jugglery,  intended  to  awe  the  candidate;  for 
the  medicine-men  are  acute  deceivers,  and  as  despotic  and 
absurd  in  social  life  as  are  the  priests  and  oracles  and  con- 
jurers of  civilized  man  in  another  hemisphere. 

It  has  been  our  good  fortune  to  see  some  of  the  tricks 
performed  by  the  medicine-men,  among  the  most  curious  of 
which  is  one  analogous  to  the  celebrated  Davenport  trick. 
The  conjurer  in  every  instance  permitted  an  inspection  of 
tent  and  person ;  he  was  then  securely  tied  inside  the  tent 
and  left  alone  for  a  moment,  when  he  would  appear  untied 
at  the  door;  a  moment  later  he  would  be  tied  again.  This 
trick  is,  in  certain  localities,  quite  common  among  them,  and 
exceedingly  well  performed.  They  exhibit  also  many  other 
feats  of  jugglery,  in  themselves  very  curious  and  interesting, 
but  not  calling  for  notice  here. 

An  interesting  circumstance  obtains,  however,  in  their 
weather  divinations.  During  stormy  weather,  the  medicine- 
man may  be  heard  in  his  tent  engaged  in  loud  incantations. 
After  half  a  day  spent  in  this  manner,  he  appears,  and  pre- 
dicts at  what  time  the  storm  will  begin  to  abate,  the  direc- 
tion the  wind  will  take,  and  the  time  that  will  elapse  before 
its  entire  cessation.     In  short,  he  gives  a  complete  meteoro- 


il 


( ; 


!1 

rft 


1 84 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


logical  and  storm  tabic;  and,  in  the  many  instances  in 
which  these  predictions  were  made  in  our  presence,  they  in- 
variably proved  correct. 

However,  neither  from  undoubted  medicine-men  who 
have  been  converted  to  the  Christian  faith,  nor  from  any 
others  of  whom  we  have  heard,  has  any  thing  worth  knowing 
in  relation  to  what  may  be  termed  the  mysteries  of  the  cere- 
monies above  indicated  been  ever  elicited.  Christian  ex- 
conjurers  have,  we  believe,  been  known  to  express  an  opin- 
ion that  they  possessed  a  power  when  pagans  which  they 
were  unable  to  exercise  after  baptism.  What  this  belief  may 
be  worth  we  do  not  know. 


CHAr-T-ER  IX. 


THE  BLACKFEET — A  PLAIN-INDIAN  "  TRADE." 


\T  7H0EVER  has  studied  the  geographical  position  of 
'  ■  the  posts  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company  canno.  '1 
to  have  noticed  the  vast  extent  of  country  intervening  betwec  u 
the  forty-ninth  parallel  of  latitude  and  the  North  Sasl  tche 
wan  River,  in  which  there  exists  no  fort  nor  trading-statio" 
of  the  company.  ■  his  is  *he  country  of  the  Blackfeet,  'ha. 
wild,  rest^  s,  erring  race,  whose  hand  is  against  every  nun, 
and  every  man's  hand  against  them.  With  the  Rocky  Moun- 
tains and  the  forty-ninth  parallel  as  a  portion  of  the  circum- 
ference, a  line  drawn  from  the  latter  through  the  elbow  of  the 
South  Saskatchewan  River  and  the  Bad  Hill,  thence  trending 
northwest  along  the  course  of  the  Red-Deer  River,  nearly  to 
the  Rocky  Mountain  House,  would  inclose  the  British  Amer- 
ican territory  of  the  Blackfeet  nation.  In  the  United  States 
it  extends  along  the  course  of  the  Missouri  River  to  a  point 
below  the  Sun  River,  thence  diverging  north  of  east  to  the 
elbow  of  the  South  Saskatchewan.  A  line  drawn  from  the 
latter  point  to  the  Rocky  Mountain  House  would  measure  six 
hundred  miles  in  length,  and  yet  lie  wholly  in  the  country  of 
the  Blackfeet.  Along  its  northern  border  lies  a  fair  and  fer- 
tile land  ;   but  close  by,  scarcely  half  a  day's  journey  to  the 


1 86 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


south,  the  arid,  treeless,  sandy  plains  begin  to  supplant  the 
rich,  verdure-clad  hills  and  dales,  and  that  immense  central 
desert  spreads  out  those  ocean-like  expanses  which  find  their 
southern  limit  down  by  the  waters  of  the  Canadian  River,  full 
twelve  hundred  miles  due  south  of  the  Saskatchewan. 

Within  the  territory  of  the  Blackfeet  nation  scarce  a  trace 
of  settlement  exists,  and  but  few  trading-posts  stand  to  wel- 
coi\ie  the  booty-laden  warrior  to  their  rude  counters*  Along 
its  entire  border  there  prevails,  during  the  months  of  summer 
and  autumn,  a  state  of  perpetual  warfare :  on  the  north  and 
east  with  the  Plain  Crees  ;  on  the  south  and  west  with  the 
Kootanais  and  Flatheads  ;  on  the  southeast  and  northwest 
with  the  Assiniboines  of  the  plain  and  mountains  ;  on  the  south 
there  are  ceaseless  predatory  excursions  against  the  Ameri- 
cans on  the  Missouri.  Ever  since  the  tribes  first  became 
known  to  the  white  traders,  there  has  existed  this  state  of 
hostility  among  them.  The  red-man  has  always  three  great 
causes  of  war — to  steal  a  horse,  to  take  a  scalp,  or  to  get  a 
wife.  On  the  north,  the  Crees  and  Assiniboines  continually 
force  on  hostilities,  for  the  sake  of  stealing  the  Blackfeet 
horses,  which  are  far  better  than  their  own  ;  while,  on  the 
south,  the  Blackfeet  make  war  upon  the  Crows  and  Flatheads 
for  a  similar  reason.  At  war  with  every  nation  that  touches 
the  wide  circle  of  their  boundaries',  these  wild,  dusky  men 
sweep  like  a  whirlwind  over  the  arid  deserts  of  the  central 

♦  Considerable  change  has  taken  place  in  the  character  of  the  Black- 
feet country  within  the  past  six  years,  owing  to  the  rapid  settlement  of 
the  Northwest  Territories,  and  the  establishment  of  Mounted  Police  Sta- 
tions at  different  points. 


\  n 


THE  BLACKFEET. 


187 


Black- 
merit  of 
ice  Sta- 


plateau.  They  speak  a  language  distinct  from  that  of  all 
other  native  tribes  ;  their  feasts  and  ceremonies,  too,  are 
difierent  from  those  of  other  nations.  Not  absolutely  sta- 
tionary residents  of  a  domain,  and  wandering  much  by 
families  and  tribes,  yet  they  are  not  nomads ;  a  confed- 
eracy, there  is  not  the  semblance  of  a  national  government 
anywhere.  In  fact,  they  form  the  most  curious  anomaly 
of  that  race  of  men  who  are  passing  away  beneath  our  eyes 
into  the  infinite  solitude.  The  legend  of  their  origin  runs 
thus : 

"  Long  years  ago,  when  their  great  forefather  crossed  the 
Mountains  of  the  Setting  Sun,  and  settled  along  the  sources 
of  the  Missouri  and  South  Saskatchewan,  it  came  to  pass  that 
a  chief  had  three  sons  :  Kenna,  or  The  Blood  ;  Peaginou,  or 
The  Wealth  ;  and  a  third  who  was  nameless.  The  first  two 
were  great  hunters  ;  they  brought  to  their  father's  lodge  rich 
store  of  moose  and  elk  meat,  and  the  buffalo  fell  beneath 
their  unerring  arrows  ;  but  the  third,  or  nameless  one,  ever 
returned  empty-handed  from  the  chase,  until  his  brothers 
mocked  him  for  want  of  skill.  One  day  the  old  chief  said  to 
this  unsuccessful  hunter :  *  My  son,  you  cannot  kill  the 
moose,  your  arrows  shun  the  buffalo,  the  elk  is  too  fleet  for 
your  footsteps,  and  your  brothers  mock  you  because  you  brinp 
no  meat  into  the  lodge  ;  but  see  !  I  will  make  you  a  mighty 
hunter.'  And  the  old  chief  took  from  his  lodge-fire  a  piece 
of  burnt  stick,  and,  wetting  it,  rubbed  the  feet  of  his  son  with 
the  blackened  charcoal,  and  named  him  Sat-sia-qua,  or  The 
Blackfeet ;  and  evermore  Sat-sia-qua  was  a  mighty  hunter,  and 


1 88 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


his  arrows  flew  straight  to  the  buffalo,  and  his  feet  moved 
swift  in  the  chase."  * 

According  to  tradition,  from  these  three  sons  descended 
the  three  tribes  of  Blood,  Peaginou,  and  Blackfeet ;  but  for 
many  generations  there  have  been  two  other  tribes  or  parts  of 
tribes  recognized  in  the  confederacy.  These  are  the  Gros- 
Ventres,  or  Atsinas,  on  the  extreme  southeast,  a  branch  of  the 
Arrapahoe  nation  who  dwelt  along  the  sources  of  the  Platte  ; 
and  the  Sircies,  on  the  north,  a  branch  or  offshoot  of  the 
Chippewyans  of  Lake  Athabasca.  The  latter  are  a  small  but 
very  mischievous  band,  which,  last  of  all  the  tribes,  joined  the 
confederacy.  How  the  former  tribe  became  detached  from 
the  parent-stock  has  never  been  determined ;  but  of  the 
latter  tradition  tells  how  a  tribe  of  Beavers,  fighting  over  the 
wanton  killing  of  a  dog,  concluded  a  peace  only  on  condition 
of  separation  ;  and  the  friends  of  the  chief  whose  arrow  had 
killed  the  dog  marched  out  into  the  night  to  seek  their  for- 
tunes in  the  vast  wilderness  lying  to  the  south.  A  hundred 
years  later,  a  Beaver  Indian,  following  the  fortunes  of  a  white 
trader,  found  himself  in  one  of  the  forts  of  the  Saskatchewan. 
Strange  Indians  were  camped  about  the  palisades,  and  among 
them  were  a  few  braves  who,  when  they  conversed  together, 
spoke  a  language  different  from  the  other  Blackfeet ;  in  this 
the  Beaver  Indian  recognized  his  own  tongue.  And  to  this 
day  the  Sircies  speak  the  language  of  their  original  tribe — a 
guttural  tongue  which  may  be  heard  far  down  in  Mexico  and 
Nicaragua,  among  the  wild  Navajo  i*nd  Apache  horsemen  of 
*  Major  Butler,  "  Great  Lone  Land." 


THE  BLACKFEET. 


189 


the  Mexican  plains — in  addition  to  that  of  the  adopted  one. 
The  Blackfeet  tongue  is  rich,  musical,  and  stately ;  that  of 
the  Sircies  harsh,  guttural,  and  difficult ;  and  while  the  Sir- 
cies  always  speak  the  former  in  addition  to  their  own  tongue, 
the  Blackfeet  rarely  acquire  the  language  of  the  Sircies.  Al- 
though the  remaining  tribes  of  the  great  Blackfeet  nation  live 
in  close  alliance  and  speak  the  same  language,  yet  it  is  com- 
paratively easy  to  distinguish  them  by  differences  of  dialect 
and  pronunciation,  such  as  prevail  in  the  various  districts  of 
our  own  country. 

Of  the  territory  occupied  by  the  Blackfeet  nation,  the 
Sircies,  numbering  scarcely  two  hundred  souls,  inhabit  the 
northern  border ;  joining  them  on  the  south  come  the  Black- 
feet proper,  numbering,  according  to  the  late  annual  counts, 
of  the  Hudson's  Bay  officers  at  their  posts,  about  four  thou- 
sand. From  their  southern  limit  to  the  South  Saskatchewan! 
range  the  Bloods,  numbering  two  thousand  ;  and  thence  to> 
the  Missouri  wander  the  Peagins,  numbering  three  thousand. 
In  March,  1870,  the  small-pox,  carrying  off  large  numbers  of 
the  latter  tribe,  swept  northward  through  the  remaining  tribes, 
and  reduced  the  nation  by  a  fourth.  Previous  to  the  ravages 
of  this  terrible  epidemic,  the  Blackfeet  confederacy  was 
believed  to  comprise  from  twelve  to  fourteen  thousand  people, 
all  included. 

But  the  Blackfeet,  taken  as  a  body,  are  still  the  most 
numerous  and  powerful  of  the  nations  that  live  wholly  or 
partly  in  British  North  America.  In  person  they  have  de- 
veloped an  unusual  degree  of  beauty  and  symmetry.     Though 


I  go 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


of  less  stature  than  many  other  Indians,  they  are  still  tall  and 
well  made.  Their  faces  are  very  intelligent,  the  nose  aqui- 
line, the  eyes  clear  and  brilliant,  the  cheek-bones  less  promi- 
nent, and  the  lips  thinner  than  usual  among  other  tribes. 
The  dress  of  the  men  differs  little  from  the  ordinary  costume 
of  the  Indian  of  the  plains,  except  in  being  generally  cleaner 
and  in  better  preservation.  The  Bloods  dress  more  neatly 
and  are  finer  and  bolder-looking  men  than  the  Blackfeet, 
who,  in  turn,  surpass  the  Peagins  in  these  respects.  The 
Bloods  are  said  to  have  among  them  many  comparatively  fair 
men,  with  grey  eyes,  and  hair  both  finer  and  lighter-colored 
than  usual  in  the  case  of  pure  Indians.  This  tribe  is  sup- 
posed to  bear  its  savage  name,  not  from  any  particular  cruelty 
of  disposition,  but  because,  unlike  the  other  tribes,  its  warriors 
do  not  steal  horses,  but  only  seek  for  the  blood  of  their  ene- 
mies, whom  they  generally  overcome,  for  they  are  among  the 
bravest  of  all  the  natives.  The  faces  of  both  Blackfeet  men 
and  women  are  generally  highly  painted  with  vermilion,  which 
seems  to  be  the  national  color.  The  dress  of  the  latter  is  very 
singular  and  striking,  consisting  of  long  gowns  of  buffalo- 
skins,  dressed  beautifully  soft,  and  dyed  with  yellow  ochre. 
This  is  confined  at  the  waist  by  a  broad  belt  of  the  same  mate- 
rial, thickly  studded  over  with  round  brass  plates,  the  size  of  a 
silver  half-dollar  piece,  brightly  polished.  The  Blackfeet,  how- 
ever, in  common  with  other  Indians,  are  rapidly  adopting  blan- 
kets and  capotes,  and  giving  up  the  beautifully-painted  robes 
of  their  forefathers.  The  ornamented  robes  that  are  now  made 
>are  inferior  in  workmanship  to  those  of  the  days  gone  by. 


THE  BLACKFEET, 


191 


The  mental  characteristics  of  the  Blackfeet  resemble 
closely  those  of  Indians  everywhere.  Similar  circumstances 
give  shape  and  force  to  thoughts  and  emotions  in  all.  Intel- 
lectual vigor  is  manifested  in  shrewdness  of  observation,  and 
strong  powers  of  perception,  imagination,  and  eloquence. 
They  are  quick  of  apprehension,  cunning,  noble-minded,  and 
firm  of  character,  yet  cautious  in  manner,  and  with  a  certain 
expression  of  pride  and  reserve.  They  are  strong  and  active, 
and  naturally  averse  to  an  indolent  habit.  Their  activity, 
however,  is  rather  manifested  in  war  and  the  chase  than  in 
useful  labor.  Pastoral,  agricultural,  and  mechanical  labor  they 
despise,  as  forming  a  sort  of  degrading  slavery.  In  this  they 
are  as  proud  as  the  citizens  of  the  old  republics  whose  busi- 
ness was  war.  Their  labors  are  laid  upon  the  women,  who 
also  are,  upon  occasion,  the  beasts  of  burden  upon  their 
marches  ;  for  the  egotism  of  the  red-man,  like  that  of  his 
white  brother,  makes  him  regard  woman  as  his  inferior,  and  a 
predestined  servant  to  minister  to  his  comfort  and  pleasure. 
The  Blackfeet  have,  moreover,  both  a  local  attachment  and  a 
strong  patriotic  or  national  feeling,  in  which  respect  they 
differ  favorably  from  all  other  tribes.  In  their  public  coun- 
cils and  debates  they  exhibit  a  genuine  oratorical  power,  and 
a  keenness  and  closeness  of  reasoning  quite  remarkable. 
Eloquence  in  public  speaking  is  a  gift  which  they  earnestly 
cultivate,  and  the  chiefs  prepare  themselves  by  previous  re- 
flection and  arrangement  of  topics  and  methods  of  expression. 
Their  scope  of  thought  is  as  boundless  as  the  land  over 
which  they  roam,  and  their  speech  the  echo  of  the  beiuty  that 


I  -I 


'J,; 


192 


THE  CREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


lies  spread  around  them.  Their  expressions  are  as  free  and 
lofty  as  those  of  any  civilized  man,  and  they  speak  the  voices 
of  the  things  of  earth  and  air  amid  which  their  wild  life  is 
cast.  Their  language  being  too  limited  to  afford  a  wealth  of 
diction,  they  make  up  in  ideas,  in  the  shape  of  metaphor 
furnished  by  all  Nature  around  them,  and  read  from  the  great 
book  which  day,  night,  and  the  desert,  unfold  to  them. 

As  before  stated,  although  the  Blackfeet  nation  is  really  a 
confederacy  of  five  tribes,  yet  there  is  no  semblance  of  a 
national  government  anywhere.  All  political  power  is  vested 
in  the  head -chief  of  each  tribe,  and  is  nearly  absolute  while 
he  exercises  it.  He  is  the  executor  of  the  people's  will,  as 
determined  in  the  councils  of  the  elders.  Some  of  them  are 
men  of  considerable  natural  abilities  ;  all  must  be  brave  and 
celebrated  in  battle.  Sometimes  they  are  hereditary  leaders, 
but  more  frequently  owe  their  elevation  to  prowess  in  war, 
or  merits  as  orators  and  statesmen.  Public  opinion  elevates 
them,  and  that,  together  with  an  uncompromising  assertion  of 
their  rights,  alone  sustains  them.  To  disobey  the  mandate  of 
a  chief  is,  at  times,  to  court  instant  death  at  his  hands.  But, 
when  a  chief  is  once  established  in  power,  the  tribe  generally 
confide  in  his  wisdom,  and  there  is  seldom  any  transgression 
of  the  laws  promulgated  by  him.  He  has  absolute  control  of 
all  military  expeditions ;  and,  whithersoever  the  chief  or 
leader  of  the  soldiers  is  sent  by  him,  the  warriors  follow.  At 
the  present  time,  the  two  most  prominent  chiefs  of  the  Black- 
feet  nation  are  Sapoo-max-sika,  or  "  The  Great  Crow's  Claw," 
chief  of  the  Blackfeet  proper,  and  Oma-ke-pee-mulkee-yeu,  or 


THE  BLACKFEET. 


193 


"  The  Great  Swan,"  chief  of  the  Bloods.  These  men  are 
widely  diverse  in  ch?racter,  the  former  being  a  man  whose 
word,  once  given,  may  be  relied  upon  for  fulfillment  ;  while 
the  latter  is  represented  as  a  man  of  colossal  proportions  and 
savage  disposition,  crafty,  treacherous,  and  cruel. 

As  a  race,  the  Blackfeet  are  livelier  than  other  Indian 
tribes.  The  latter  are  gen- 
erally quarrelsome  when  in 
liquor,  while  the  former  show 
their  jollity  by  dancing,  sing- 
ing, and  hugging  one  anoth- 
er with  all  sorts  of  antics. 
Though  so  fond  of  rum,  the 
Blackfeet  are  not  habitual 
drunkards.  They  get  com- 
pletely drunk  once  or  twice 
a  year,  but  at  other  times 
take  nothing  stronger  than 
coffee,    which    the    United 

States  Government  deals  out  a  blackfeet  grave. 

to  them  as  part  of  an  annual  subsidy.  They  consider — and 
not  without  some  icason — that  these  periodical  excesses  are 
good  for  them,  curing  the  biliousness  caused  by  their  mode 
of  life. 

Their  funeral  and  burial  ceremonies  indicate  their  belief 

in  the  immortality  of  the  soul.     These  forms  are  of  a  similar 

type  among  all  the  tribes  composing  the  nation.     They  place 

their  dei.d,  dressed  in  gaudiest  apparel,  within  a  tent,  in  a  sit- 

9 


%\ 


194 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


ting  posture,  or  occasionally  fold  them  in  skins  and  lay  them 
on  high  scaffolds  out  of  the  reach  of  wild  beasts,  under  which 
the  relatives  weep  and  wail.  Their  arms  and  horses  are 
buried  with  them,  to  be  used  in  the  long  journey  to  the  spirit- 
land,  showing  the  possession  of  the  idea  of  the  dual  nature  of 
matter  and  spirit. 

A  somewhat  singular  custom  obtains  upon  the  death  of  a 
child.  Immediately  upon  its  decease,  the  whole  village  rush 
into  the  lodge  and  take  possession  of  whatever  portable  prop- 
erty they  can  seize  upon,  until  the  grief-stricken  parents  are 
stripped  of  all  their  worldly  possessions,  not  even  excepting 
their  clothing.  The  only  method  of  evading  the  custom  is  to 
secrete  the  most  valuable  property  beforehand,  generally  a 
matter  difficult  of  accomplishment. 

Although  the  Blackfeet  nation  is  divided  into  detached 
tribes,  yet  the  essen  ial  characteristics  of  the  race  may  be 
found  in  all.  Proud,  courageous,  independent,  and  dignified 
in  bearing,  they  form  the  strongest  possible  contrast  with  the 
majority  of  the  Northern  tribes ;  and  they  have  many  natural 
virtues  which  might  carry  them  far  toward  civilization,  but 
for  the  wars  into  which  they  have  been  plunged  by  the  rapa- 
city of  the  whites.  These  wars  have  not  only  greatly  dimin- 
ished their  numbers,  but  keep  alive  a  feeling  of  implacable 
hatred  of  the  whole  white  race,  which  no  extraneous  influence 
has  as  yet  served  to  mitigate.  **  At  this  moment,"  wrote  an 
American  officer  scarcely  fifteen  years  since,  "  it  is  certain  a 
man  can  go  about  through  the  Blackfeet  country  without  mo- 
lestation, except  in  the  contingency  of  being  mistaken  at  night 


THE  BLACK  FEET. 


195 


for  an  Indian."  But  fifteen  years  of  injustice  and  wrong  have 
changed  the  friend  into  an  aggressive  enemy.  Injustice  and 
wrong  toward  the  Indian  have  almost  always  formed  the  rule 
with  the  Government  and  individuals,  and  the  opposite  the 
exception.  Smarting  under  a  sense  of  these  wrongs,  the 
Blackfeet  have  been  made  implacable  enemies  of  their  op- 
pressors. Those  who  have  paraded  a  '*  knowledge  of  Indian 
character"  have,  in  scores  of  instances,  purposely  fanned  the 
flames  of  indignation  and  desire  for  revenge,  and  incited  the 
Indians  to  make  war  that  their  own  craft  might  prosper  in 
government  employ.  Knowledge  of  Indian  character  has  too 
long  been  synonymous  with  knowledge  of  how  to  cheat  the 
Indian ;  a  species  of  cleverness  which,  even  in  the  science  of 
chicanery,  does  not  require  the  exercise  of  the  highest  abil- 
ities. The  red-man  has  already  had  too  many  dealings  with 
persons  of  this  class,  and  has  now  a  very  shrewd  idea  that 
those  who  possess  this  knowledge  of  his  character  have  also 
managed  to  possess  themselves  of  his  property. 

At  war  on  every  hand,  anything  like  regular  trade  with 
the  Blackfeet  nation  is  carried  on  with  much  difificulty. 
Years  ago  a  desultory  exchange  of  peltries  and  merchandise 
was  conducted  through  the  Peagin  tribe  at  Fort  Benton  and 
other  posts  on  the  Missouri ;  but  constant  imposition  on  the 
part  of  the  white  traders,  and  retaliation  by  the  red-men.  have 
now  nearly  estopped  all  commercial  relations  between  the  two 
parties.  In  recent  years,  a  small  post  established  by  two 
Americans  on  the  Belly  River,  sixty  miles  within  British  ter- 
ritory, on  the  Fort  Benton  and  Edmonton  House  trail,  for 


196 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


the  purpose  of  trading  improved  arms,  ammunition,  and 
spirits,  to  the  Blackfeet,  has  attracted  the  greater  share  of 
their  trade  ;  the  Blackfeet  realizing  the  necessity  of  meeting 
their  enemies  with  the  improved  implements  of  modern  war- 
fare. This  establishment,  controlled  by  a  band  of  outlaws, 
obtaining  its  goods  by  smuggling  across  the  boundary-line, 
and  the  open  and  flagrant  violation  of  all  law,  human  and 
divine,  and  only  safe  from  plunder  by  the  savages  by  reason 
of  superior  armament  and  the  known  reckless  character  of  its 
servants,  was  fortunately  broken  up  by  the  Dominion  consta- 
bulary a  short  time  since.  It  is  a  matter  of  regret,  however, 
that  the  Blackfeet  should  have  been  thoroughly  supplied  with 
repeating-rifles  previous  to  its  demolition.  The  closing  of  this 
post  leaves  the  Blackfeet  nation  but  one  other  trading-post*  in 
the  immediate  vicinity  of  their  own  territory,  and  diverts  the 
trade  from  an  American  to  a  British  channel. 

The  Rocky-Mountain  House  of  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany stands  upon  the  high  northern  bank  of  the  North  Sas- 
katchewan River,  in  the  thick  pine-forest  which  stretches 
away  to  the  base  of  the  foot-hills.  The  stream  here  runs  in  a 
deep,  wooded  valley,  on  the  western  extremity  of  which  rise 
the  towering  peaks  of  the  Rocky  Mountains.  The  house 
itself  is  a  heavy  log  structure,  and  presents  many  features  to 
be  found  in  no  other  post  of  the  region.  Built  with  especial 
reference  to  the  Plain-Indian  trade,  every  device  known  to 

*  The  writer  refers  to  the  old  established  trading-posts  of  the  Fur  Trade. 
Since  the  formation  of  the  Northwest  Territories  by  the  Dominion  Govern- 
ment, military  and  trading-posts  have  been  scattered  throughout  the 
Blackfeet  country. 


Tfia 


THE  BLACKFEET. 


197 


r 


the  trader  has  been  put  in  force  to  secure  the  servants  against 
the  possibility  of  a  surprise  during  a  barter ;  for  the  wily  Black- 
feet  seize  every  opportunity  to  overpower  the  garrison  and 
help  themselves,  to  the  complete  collapse  of  profit  on  the 
trade  to  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company.  Bars,  bolts,  locks, 
sliding-doors,  and  places  to  fire  down  upon  the  Indians, 
abound  in  every  direction,  and  the  apartments  in  which  the 
Indians  assemble  to  trade  are  cut  off  from  all  communication 
with  the  remaining  rooms  of  the  fort.  In  effect,  the  cus- 
tomers of  this  isolated  mercantile  establishment  are  handled 
very  much  after  the  manner  of  a  hot  coal,  and  surrounded, 
metaphorically  speaking,  with  sheet-iron  guards  lest  damage 
might  result  to  the  holder. 

When  the  Blackfeet  have  accumulated  a  sufficient  number 
of  peltries  to  warrant  a  visit  to  the  Rocky-Mountain  House, 
two  or  three  envoys,  or  forerunners,  are  chosen,  and  are  sent 
in  advance  of  the  main  body,  by  a  week  or  more,  to  announce 
their  approach  and  notify  the  officers  in  charge  of  the  quan- 
tity of  provisions,  peltries,  robes,  horses,  etc.,  which  they 
will  have  to  dispose  of ;  and  also  to  ascertain  the  where- 
abouts of  their  hereditary  enemies,  the  Crees  and  Mountain 
Assiniboines.  The  envoys  prepare  for  state  visits  of  this 
nature  by  an  assumption  of  their  gaudiest  apparel,  and  a  more 
than  usual  intensity  of  paint :  scarlet  leggins  and  blankets  ; 
abundance  of  ribbons  in  the  cap,  if  any  be  worn,  or  the  head- 
band trimmed  with  beads  and  porcupine-quills,  while  the  bulk 
of  the  cap  is  made  of  the  plumage  of  birds  ;  again,  a  single 
feather  from  the  wing  of  an  eagle  or  white-bird,  fastened  in 


i«  i^ 


iqS 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


the  scalp-lock,  or  the  hair  plaited  in  a  long  cue  behind,  and 
two  shorter  ones  hanging  down  on  each  side  in  front,  each 
bound  round  with  coils  of  bright  brass  wire  ;  round  the  eyes 
a  halo  of  bright  vermilion,  a  streak  down  the  nose,  a  patch  on 
each  cheek,  and  a  circle  round  the  mouth  of  the  same  color, 
constitute  the  effective  head-gear  of  the  advance-agents.  The 
remainder  of  the  costume  is  modified  by  climate  and  seasons. 
In  the  summer  they  are  almost  naked,  seldom  wearing  more 
than  the  azain,  or  loin-cloth.  In  the  colder  months  they  wear 
clothing  made  of  the  skins  of  wild  animals,  dressed,  or  with 
fur  on  ;  soft  moccasins  of  deerskin,  brightly  ornamented  with 
pigments,  beads,  and  stained  quills  of  the  porcupine  ;  leather 
stockings  or  leggins  of  dressed  deer-skin,  ornamented  generally 
by  fringes  of  the  same  material,  covering  the  moccasins  and 
reaching  nearly  to  the  body,  and  suspended  by  a  thong  round 
the  abdomen.  With  the  females  the  leggins  extend  from  the 
feet  to  the  knees,  below  which  they  are  fastened  by  a  beaded 
and  quilled  garter.  A  shirt,  made  of  soft  buffalo -skin,  and  a 
necklace  of  bear's-claws  and  teeth,  together  with  a  fire-bag 
and  tobacco-pipe — the  inseparable  companions  of  every  In- 
dian— complete  the  costume.  The  forerunner  is  anxious  to 
make  every  article  of  his  elaborate  toilet  tell  with  effect,  as 
his  mission  is  regarded  as  an  important  one,  in  which  a  failure 
to  produce  a  favorable  impression  on  the  mind  of  the  trader 
would  be  fraught  with  disastrous  consequences  to  the  prospec- 
tive trade.  . 

Upon  arriving    at   the  post,   the    envoys    are    received 
and  handsomely  entertained  by  the  officer  in  charge,  who 


THE  BLACKFEET. 


199 


makes  them  presents  according  to  their  rank,  and  in  propor- 
tion to  the  anticipated  vahie  of  the  trade.  They  are  feasted, 
smoked,  and,  upon  occasion,  wined  to  a  considerable  extent. 
In  turn,  they  report  the  number  of  peltries,  horses,  etc.,  to  be 
traded  by  the  band,  and  name  the  articles  likely  to  be  most  in 
demand  by  their  brethren.  Such  goods  are  at  once  placed 
where  they  may  be  easily  accessible,  and  the  quantity,  if  in- 
adequate, is  augmented  by  supplies  procured  at  the  nearest 
post,  should  there  be  sufficient  time  for  that  purpose.  The 
forerunners  are  shown  the  stock  of  merchandise  on  hand,  and 
the  quality  of  the  goods ;  the  values  of  different  articles  are 
explained  to  them,  .  d  the  fullest  understanding  upon  all 
matters  relative  to  the  trade  is  arrived  at.  This  completed, 
and  a  few  days  of  lounging  indulged  "n,  the  advance-agents 
depart  to  their  tribe,  and  the  little  garrison  of  the  Mountain 
House  prepare  for  the  coming  struggle. 

Within  the  fort  a  searching  examination  is  made  of  the 
efficient  working  of  p.ll  bolts,  locks,  gratings,  etc.,  and  of  the 
closing  of  all  means  of  communication  between  the  Indian- 
room — a  large  apartment  in  which  the  Blackfeet  assemble 
previous  to  being  admitted  into  the  trading-store — and  the 
rest  of  the  buildings  ;  guns  are  newly  cleaned,  reloaded,  and 
placed,  together  with  abundant  ammunition,  by  the  numerous 
loop-holes  in  the  lofts  above  the  trading  and  Indian-rooms. 
From  the  shelves  of  the  former  are  taken  most  of  the  blankets, 
colored  cloths,  guns,  ammunition,  ribbons,  bright  handker- 
chiefs, beads,  etc.,  the  staple  commodities  of  the  Indian  trade, 
with  a  view  of  decreasing  the  excitement  under  which  the 


'i^^pi 


200 


THE  CREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


i!bn> 


l^i 


red-man  always  labors  when  brought  into  immediate  juxtaposi- 
tion with  so  much  bravery — an  excitement  which  renders  him 
oblivious  to  furnishing  an  equivalent  in  exchange,  and  tends 
to  foster  his  habits  of  forcible  seizure.  Preparations  are  also 
made  within  the  stockade  for  the  reception  of  the  ponies  to 
be  purchased,  and  their  safe-keeping  afterward,  for  the  Black- 
feet's  fine  sense  of  humor  frequently  leads  him  to  ride  away 
an  animal  he  has  just  sold,  by  way  of  practical  joke  upjn  the 
owner. 

All  things  being  made  secure,  there  remains  for  the  use  of 
the  Blackfeet  the  narrow  passage-way  leading  from  the  outer 
gate  of  the  stout  log  stockade  to  the  Indian-room — a  passage 
tigntly  walled  up  with  smooth  logs,  in  which  no  interstices  or 
footholds  occur,  in  order  to  pi  event  all  entrance  into  the 
yard  of  the  inclosure, — the  Indian-room  itself,  and  the  small 
hall-way  leading  from  it  to  the  trading-store.  This  latter  is 
closed  by  two  heavy  doors,  the  space  between  being  barely 
sufficient  to  accommodate  two  persons  standing  with  their 
peltries.  In  trading  but  two  Indians  are  admitted  into  the 
trading-store  at  one  time,  after  the  following  fashion  :  The 
passage-door  leading  into  the  Indian-room  is  opened,  and  two 
braves  admitted  therein  ;  then  it  is  closed,  and  the  other  door 
leading  into  the  trading-store  opened.  When  the  two  war- 
riors have  finished  trading,  their  return  to  the  Indian-room  is 
effected  by  a  similar  process,  one  door  always  being  kept 
shut.  Both  these  doors  are  made  to  slide  into  their  places, 
and  are  manipulated  from  an  apartment  occupied  by  the 
traders  ;    so   that    the    supply  of  customers  is  regulated  as 


THE  BLACKFEET. 


201 


ixtaposi- 
ders  him 
nd  tends 
i  are  also 
ponies  to 
le  Black- 
ide  away 
upjn  the 

he  use  of 
the  outer 
a  passage 
rstices  or 

into  the 
the  small 
s  latter  is 
ng  barely 
vith  their 
i  into  the 
Dn  :  The 
i,  and  two 
)ther  door 

two  war- 
m-room is 
teing  kept 
eir  places, 
d  by  the 
Kulated  as 


desired.  The  trading-store  is  divided  by  means  of  a  stout  par- 
tition extending  from  floor  to  ceiling  into  two  parts,  one  for 
the  goods  and  traders,  the  other  for  the  Indians.  In  the 
centre  of  this  partition  an  aperture  of  little  more  than  a  yard 


THE  TRAPINC  STORE. 


square  is  cut,  divided  by  a  gratmg  into  squares  sufficiently 

large  to  admit  the  passage  of  an  arm,  a  blanket,  or  a  robe,  but 

inadequate  to  the  admission  of  the  red-man  in  person.     This 

partition  is  necessitated  by  the  fact  of  the  Blackfeet's  forget- 
9* 


i- 


\i 


\ 


UMIJ 


202 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


fulness  of  the  existence  of  counters,  and  the  exasperating 
pertinacity  with  which  he  insists  upon  close  and  personal  ex- 
amination of  the  goods.  It  sometimes  happens,  too,  that  he 
expresses  his  dissatisfaction  at  the  price  of  a  much-coveted 
article  by  desultory  firing  at  the  person  of  the  trader,  who,  in 
the  absence  of  such  partition,  has  no  means  of  escape  or  con- 
cealment. It  is  on  account  of  a  somewhat  frequent  repetition 
of  this  occurrence  that  the  two  loop-holes  in  the  ceiling  im- 
mediately above  the  grating  are  perhaps  the  most  closely 
guarded  of  any  during  the  progress  of  a  trade.  From  time  to 
time,  as  the  shelves  are  depleted  of  their  gaudy  lading,  ad- 
vantage is  taken  of  the  absence  of  all  Indians  from  the  room 
to  have  new  supplies  brought  in  ;  care  being  taken  to  preserve 
an  equilibrium,  the  loss  of  which  would  lead  to  a  correspond- 
ing depression  or  excitement  on  the  part  of  the  braves.  The 
furs  and  provisions  traded  are  at  once  transferred  to  another 
apartment  out  of  sight. 

On  the  day  appointed  for  the  trade  a  moving  cloud  ap- 
proaching over  the  prairie  soon  takes  on  a  certain  degree  of 
individuality,  and  the  picturesque  throng  come  in  mounted 
upon  their  gayly-caparisoned  ponies,  dashing  over  the  ground 
at  full  speed,  sometimes  singly,  most  often  in  knots  of  two  or 
three,  or  even  larger  groups.  When  the  Blackfeet  pay  a  visit 
to  the  Mountain  House  they  generally  come  in  large  numbers, 
prepared  to  fight  with  either  Crees  or  Assiniboines.  The 
braves  generally  ride  free,  while  the  squaws  and  children 
bring  up  the  rear  with  the  ponies  and  dogs  drawing  the  loaded 
travailles.     A  travaille  is  an  Indian  contrivance  consisting  ol 


THE  BLACKFEET, 


203 


two  poles  fastened  together  at  an  acute  angle,  with  crossbars 
between.  The  point  of  the  angle  rests  upon  the  back  of  the 
dog  or  horse,  the  diverging  ends  of  the  poles  drag  along  the 
ground,  and  the  baggage  is  tied  on  to  the  crossbars.  The  In- 
dians use  these  contrivances  instead  of  carts.  It  frequently 
occurs  that,  in  addition  to  the  packs  of  dogs  and  horses,  the 
women  are  also  heavily  laden. 

The  Blackfeet,  having  successfully  forded  the  river  with 
their  peltries,  by  piling  them  upon  the  backs  of  ponies  which 
they  force  to  swim  the  stream,  form  a  camp  at  some  distance 
from  the  fort,  pitching  their  tepees  and  spreading  the  wet  robes 
out  to  dry.  A  tepee,  or  lodge,  is  generally  composed  of  from 
ten  to  twelve  buffalo-hides,  from  which  the  hair  has  been  re- 
moved, and  the  skin  nicely  tanned  and  smoked.  The  usual 
number  of  Indians  to  a  tepee  is  seven,  of  which  at  least  two  are 
warriors  or  able-bodied  fighting-men.  The  camp  being  com- 
pleted, the  ponies  for  barter  are  selected,  and  the  furs  and 
provisions  made  ready  for  transportation  to  the  fort,  and 
easily  accessible  during  the  trade.  The  ponies  of  the  Black- 
feet  are  generally  of  a  superior  breed  to  those  found  among 
other  Northern  tribes,  and  command  higher  prices.  The 
braves  are  very  fond  of  their  horses,  and  very  careful  of  them, 
differing  in  this  respect  from  th;^  Crees  and  Vssiniboines,  who 
are  rough  and  unmerciful  masters.  They  have  a  custom  of 
marking  their  horses  with  certain  hieroglyphics,  painting  them 
over  with  curious  devices,  and  scenting  them  with  aromatic 
herbs. 

Everything  being  made  ready  in  the  Blackfeet  camp — 


II 


■ 
■ — V— .- 

J- 

r  ■  f  ■  ■ 

'^■'  \ 

!  !  i^r, 


204 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAUD. 


peltries  collected  in  small  bundles,  provisions  packed,  robes 
and  dressed  skins  dried  and  easily  accessible,  the  best  gar- 
ments and  most  vivid  paint  donned  by  the  braves — whatever 
is  to  be  traded  is  now  laid  upon  the  backs  of  ponies  and 
squaws,  and  the  entire  camp  approa'^h  the  fort  in  long  caval- 
cade. Within  a  short  distance  of  the  stockade  the  procession 
halts,  and  the  officer  in  charge  goes  out  to  meet  them.  A 
small  circle  is  formed  by  the  chiefs  and  head-men,  the  trader 
enters  it,  and  the  palaver  begins.  Many  speeches  are  made  ; 
each  brave,  first  embalming  himself  in  a  few  words  of  feeling 
eulogy,  assures  the  officer  of  his  inordinate  affection  for  the 
white  race  in  general  and  his  person  in  particular,  and  avows 
his  intention  of  conducting  the  ensuing  trade  in  a  strictly 
honorable  and  orderly  manner — the  whole  affair  terminating 
by  the  principal  chief  illustrating  his  love  for  his  white  brother 
and  his  own  "big  heart"  by  loading  a  pony  with  an  hetero- 
geneous collection  of  robes,  leather,- and  provisions,  and  hand- 
ing horse  and  all  he  carries  over  to  the  officer.  This  is  the 
Indian  manner  of  beginning  a  trade  ;  and,  after  such  a  present, 
no  sane  man  can  possibly  entertain  a  doubt  upon  the  big- 
heartedness  of  the  donor.  The  custom  has,  however,  one 
drawback — the  trader  is  expected  to  return  a  present  of  twice 
the  value.  Unlike  the  Spaniard,  when  the  red-man  extends 
one  the  key  of  his  house,  he  expects  the  offer  to  be  taken  lit- 
erally, at  the  same  time  grimly  smiling  over  the  certain  retri- 
bution which  awaits  the  receiver.  In  fact,  it  is  one  of  the  in- 
conveniences of  having  Indian  friends  that,  if  one  expresses 
admiration  of  anything  they  possess,  it  is  almost  invariably 


'^ 


THE  BLACKFEET. 


205 


handed  over,  and  the  unfortunate  recipient  of  a  penny  is  in 
for  a  pound.  In  this  case  it  is  certain  that,  if  the  trader  pur- 
chases a  hundred  horses  during  the  trade  which  ensues,  not 
one  of  the  whole  band  will  cost  so  dearly  as  that  which  de- 
monstrates the  friendship  and  large-heartedness  of  the  chief. 
For,  immediately  upon  the  knowledge  of  its  receipt  at  the 
fort,  'the  gate  is  again  swung  open,  and  there  is  sent  out  to  the 
chief,  in  return,  a  gift  of  blankets,  strouds,  ammunition,  and 
finery,  u:  .  the  combined  weight  of  which  he  staggers  off, 
looking  like  a  vermilion  Atlas.  Such  tangible  proof  of  the 
corresponding  size  of  the  trader's  heart  being  received,  the 
chief  addresses  the  assembled  braves,  exhorting  them  to  con- 
duct themselves  in  an  orderly  and  peaceable  manner,  and  not 
prove  him  the  possessor  of  a  forked  tongue  by  rude  behavior. 
The  braves,  standing  ready  with  their  peltries,  and  eager  to 
begin  the  trade,  readily  promise  to  observe  his  commands, 
and  move  up  toward  the  gate  of  the  stockade. 

The  trader  having  returned  to  the  post,  all  preparations 
for  the  trade  are  completed,  communication  cut  off,  men  all 
stationed  at  their  posts  ready  for  anything  that  may  turn  up. 
Then  the  outer  gate  is  thrown  open,  and  the  eager  crowd 
rushes  into  the  Indian-room.  In  a  moment  the  door  leading 
into  the  little  hall-way  connecting  that  apartment  with  the 
trading-store  slides  back,  and  two  Indians  with  their  peltries 
enter.  Then  the  door  slides  into  place  again,  and  the  other 
one  opens,  admitting  the  braves  into  the  store.  They  look 
through  the  grating,  select  the  articles  they  want,  and  pay 
*  for  them  in  installments.     An  Indian  never  asks  at  once  for 


i'.|!5SR         ■     11 


m    n 


206 


TI/£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


everything  he  wants,  and  then  pays  for  it  in  one  payment ; 
but  purchases  one  thing  at  a  time,  receives  his  change,  then 
turns  his  attention  to  another.  In  this  way  he  seems  to  get 
more  for  his  money  ;  and  the  linked  sweetness  of  shopping  is 
longer  drawn  out.  The  trade  is  rapidly  pushed,  and  the 
braves  are  at  once  returned  by  the  double-barred  process  to 
the  Indian-room,  and  a  fresh  batch  admitted,  when  the  doors 
are  again  locked. 

The  reappearance  of  each  installment  of  fortunate  braves, 
with  the  much-prized  articles  of  ornament  and  use,  continually 
augments  the  growing  excitement  of  the  waiting  throng  in  the 
Indian-room.  Each  one  is  eagerly  questioned  as  to  what  he 
saw,  whether  there  was  any  of  this  or  that  article,  and  whether 
the  supply  would  be  likely  to  be  exhausted  before  the  ques- 
tioner's turn  arrived.  Each  succeeding  statement  that  there 
were  on  the  shelves  but  a  few  guns,  blankets,  a  little  tea,  sugar, 
etc.,  intensifies  the  anxiety,  and  the  crush  to  get  In  increases 
in  proportion,  under  the  belief  that  everything  will  be  gone. 
The  announcement  by  the  trader,  through  a  loop-hole,  that 
there  will  be  enough  for  all,  scarcely  allays  the  confusion  in 
any  measure,  the  universal  desire  and  rush  to  obtain  the  first 
choice  still  remaining.  Thus  the  trade  progresses  until  all 
the  furs  and  provisions  have  changed  hands,  and  there  is 
nothing  more  to  be  traded.  Sometimes,  however,  the  trade 
does  not  proceed  so  smoothly.  It  frequently  happens  that 
the  Blackfeet  repair  to  the  fort  with  but  a  small  collection  of 
robes  and  leather,  under  which  circumstances,  being  of  a  fru- 
,  \  oiind,  they  object  to  seeing  their  stock  in  trade  go  for  a 


THE  BLACKFEET. 


207 


little  tea  and  sugar.  These  objections  generally  assume  the 
shape  of  bullets  and  knife-hacking,  of  which  the  walls  of  the 
Indian-room  bear  plentiful  evidence.  Then  the  trading-store 
is  promptly  closed,  only  to  be  re-opened  when  the  sudden 
ebullition  of  anger  has  passed  away. 

Upon  the  completion  of  the  exchange  of  peltries  and 
goods  begins  the  horse-trading  ;  and  the  method  of  carrying 
it  on  depends  much  upon  the  humor  which  the  Blac!'feet  ex- 
hibit. If  they  appear  well  satisfied  with  the  trade  of  goods, 
then  the  horse-trading  takes  place  immediately  outside  the 
stockade — the  animals  being  led  within  as  fast  as  purchased, 
and  the  Indians  shown  singly  into  the  trading-store  to  be 
paid.  If  an  aggressive  spirit  obtains,  however,  a  single  brave, 
with  his  pony  or  ponies,  is  admitted  at  a  time  within  the  yard 
of  the  stockade,  the  trade  effected,  and  the  owner  paid  and 
passed  without  the  gate  before  the  admission  of  a  second. 
Perhaps  a  more  than  usual  care  is  exercised  during  the  pro- 
gress of  this  trade,  from  the  fact  that  the  Blackfeet  generally 
all  gather  about  the  stockade  at  that  time,  and,  the  majority 
being  already  supplied  with  goods,  they  fail  to  recognize  the 
necessity  of  longer  preserving  peaceful  relations  with  the 
traders. 

A  peculiarity  of  these  trades  lies  in  the  fact  that  money 
values  are  unknown,  everything  being  reckoned  by  skins,  as 
is  the  case  throughout  a  great  portion  of  the  company's 
territory.  The  skin  is  a  very  old  term  in  the  fur-trade,  and  is 
based  upon  the  standard  of  the  beaver-skin,  or,  as  it  is  called, 
the  made  beaver.     For  example  :  a  beaver,  or  skin,  is  reck- 


208 


r//4  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


oned  equivalent  to  one  mink-skin  ;  one  marten  is  equal  to 
two  skins,  one  buffalo-robe  to  six  skins,  a  silver  fox  to  twenty 
skins,  and  so  on  throughout  the  scale  of  fur.  In  a  like 
manner  all  articles  of  merchandise  have  their  value  in  skins. 
Thus  a  brave  brings  a  pony,  which  is  valued  at  fifty  skins, 
and  these  fifty  skins  will  be  divided  as  follows  :  a  kettle,  five 
skins  ;  a  blanket,  ten  skins  ;  a  capote,  ten  skins  ;  ammunition, 
ten  skins  ;  tobacco,  fifteen  skins.  The  brave  hands  over  the 
pony,  and  receives  in  payment  a  capote,  a  blanket,  a  kettle, 
ammunition,  and  tobacco.  The  original  skin,  the  beaver, 
now  seldom  makes  its  appearance  at  the  Mountain  House, 
those  animals  having  been  nearly  exterminated  in  that  part  of 
the  territory ;  but,  notwithstanding  the  fact  of  the  marked 
deterioration  in  the  price  of  the  beaver-skin  since  it  was 
originally  adopted  as  the  standard  of  value  in  the  fur-trade, 
owing  to  the  extensive  use  of  silk  in  the  manufacture  of  hats, 
it  still  nominally  retains  the  fictitious  value  first  placed 
upon  it. 

A  somewhat  amusing  illustration  of  the  universal  passion 
for  dress,  which  forms  a  distinguishing  characteristic  of  the 
Blackfeet,  equally  with  other  Indians,  occurs  in  these  trades. 
The  fashionable  costume  of  the  red-man  is  not  generally  reg- 
ulated by  the  variable  moods  of  the  mercurial  Parisian ; 
indeed,  it  has  undergone  but  little  change  since  the  memory 
of  men.  Certain  interesting  specimens  of  the  race  are  said  to 
have  been  seen  attired  in  even  less  than  the  vaunted  Mexican 
costume — a  shirt-collar  and  pair  of  spurs.  We  ourselves  re- 
member to  have  seen  one  chastely  appareled  in  a  stove-pipe 


|i:M.  Il     ! 


THE  BLACKFEET. 


209 


hat.  But  it  frequently  occurs,  during  the  trades,  that  some 
doughty  chieftain  elects  to  appear  in  more  than  regal  magnifi- 
cence before  his  tribe  ;  and  for  his  benefit,  and  those  of 
similar  tastes,  the  company  annually  import  certain  ancient 
costumes  prevalent  in  England  some  half-century  since.  The 
tall,  stove-pipe  hat,  with  round  narrow  brim  ;  the  snuff -brown 
or  bright-blue  coat,  with  high  collar,  climbing  up  over  the 
neck,  the  sleeves  tightly  fitting,  the  waist  narrow — this  is  the 
Blackfeet's  ideal  of  perfection  in  dress,  and  the  brave  who 
can  array  himself  in  this  antique  garb  struts  out  from  the  fort 
the  envy  and  admiration  of  all  beholders.  Often  the  high  hat 
is  ornamented  with  a  decayed  ostrich-plume,  drooping  like 
the  shadow  of  a  great  sorrow,  which  has  figured  in  the  turban 
of  some  dowager  of  the  British  Isles  long  years  since.  While 
the  presence  of  trousers  is  considered  by  no  meaus  essential 
to  the  perfect  finish  of  the  costume,  the  addition  of  a  narrow 
band  of  gold  lace  about  the  coat  is  regarded  as  imparting  an 
air  of  tone  to  the  general  effect  not  to  be  obtained  in  any 
other  way.  For  such  a  costume  the  Blackfeet  brave  will  bar- 
ter his  deer-skin  shirt,  beaded,  quilled,  and  ornamented  with 
the  raven  locks  of  his  enemies ;  his  head-band  of  beautiful 
feathers  and  shells ;  and  the  soft-tanned  and  flowing  robe  of 
buffalo-skin — a  dress  which  adds  a  kingly  dignity  to  his 
athletic  form  for  one  which  Pantaloon  would  scorn  to  wear. 
Fortunately,  the  new  dress  does  not  long  survive.  Little  by 
little  it  is  found  unsuited  to  the  wild  life  which  its  owner 
leads,  an^,  although  never  losing  the  originally  high  estimate 
placed  upon  it,  is  discarded  at  length  by  reason  of  the  many 


r 


m 


310 


T//£  CUE  A  T  FUR  LAND. 


inconveniences  arising  from  running  buffalo  in  a  plug-hat 
and  fighting  in  a  swallow-tail  coat  against  the  Crees. 

In  the  old  days  of  the  fur  trade,  when  spirits  were  used  as 
a  medium  of  exchange,  the  most  frightful  scenes  were  wont  to 
occur.  First  suggested  as  a  stimulant  to  the  manufacture  of 
provisions,  the  amount  given  was  limited  to  a  small  quantity 
to  each  Indian  at  the  termination  of  a  trade.  Even  then  no 
drinking  was  permitted  within  a  mile  of  the  forts.  Unfortu- 
nately for  the  moderate  use  of  this  incentive  to  pemmican- 
making,  on  the  part  of  the  redman,  his  acute  intellect  in- 
stantly conceived  the  idea  of  utilizing  this  particular  provision 
as  a  perpetual  legal  tender  for  liquor.  So  he  withheld  his 
pemmican  until  the  food  supply  ran  short  among  the  forts  of 
the  corporation,  and  forced  a  compliance  with  his  own  terms. 
For  all  the  other  wants  of  his  savage  life  he  had  furs  and 
robes  to  trade.  The  scenes  that  occurred  in  the  Indian 
rooms  of  the  forts,  during  the  progress  of  a  liquor  and  pem- 
mican trade,  were  not  calculated  to  impress  one  favorably 
■with  the  moral  status  of  either  his  white  or  red  brother.  1'he 
spirit  used  was  generally  rum,  which,  although  freely  diluted 
with  water,  soon  reduced  the  assemblage  to  a  state  of  wild 
hilarity,  quickly  followed  by  stupidity  and  sleep.  The 
strength  of  the  fire-water  dealt  out  was  varied  according  to 
the  capacity  or  hard-headedness  of  the  different  tribes.  The 
liquor  for  the  Crees,  as  living  in  the  neighborhood  of  the  forts 
and  supposed  to  be  capable  of  standing  more,  was  composed 
of  three  parts  of  water  to  one  of  spirit  ;  that  of  the  Blackfeet, 
a  distant  tribe,  who  had  access  to  liquor  infrequently,  seven 


THE  BLACKFEET. 


21  I 


of  water  to  one  of  spirit.  So  great,  however,  is  the  power 
which  alcohol,  in  any  form,  exercises  over  the  red-man  that 
the  Blackfeet,  even  upon  their  well-diluted  liquor,  were  wont 
to  become  hopelessly  intoxicated. 

A  liquor  trade  generally  began  with  a  present  of  fire-water 
all  round.  Then  business  went  on  apace.  After  an  Indian 
had  taken  his  first  drink,  it  was  a  matter  of  little  diffi(  iilty  to 
obtain  all  he  had  in  exchange  for  spirits.  Horses,  robes,  tents, 
provisions — all  would  be  proffered  for  one  more  dram  of  the 
beloved  poison.  As  the  trade  advanced  it  degenerated  into  a 
complete  orgy.  Nothinjj  could  exceed  the  excitement  inside 
the  room,  except  it  was  the  excitement  outside — for  only  a 
limited  number  of  the  thirsty  crowd  could  obtain  entrance  at 
a  time.  There  the  anxious  braves  could  only  learn  by  hear- 
say what  was  going  on  within.  Now  and  then  a  brave,  with 
an  amount  of  self-abnegation  worthy  of  a  better  cause,  would 
issue  from  the  fort,  with  his  cheeks  distended  and  his  mouth 
full  of  rum,  and  going  along  the  ranks  of  his  friends  he  would 
squirt  a  little  of  the  liquor  into  the  open  mouths  of  his  less 
fortunate  brethren.  There  were  times,  however,  when  matters 
did  not  go  on  so  peaceably.  Knives  were  wont  to  flash  and 
shots  to  be  fired,  and  the  walls  of  the  Indian-rooms  at  many  of 
the  forts  show  frequent  traces  of  bullet-marks  and  knife  hack- 
ing, done  in  the  wild  fury  of  the  intoxicated  savage.  Some 
seventeen  years  ago  this  baneful  distribution  was  stopped  by 
the  company  in  the  Plain  districts,  but  the  free-traders  still 
continue  to  employ  liquor  as  a  means  of  acquiring  the  furs  be- 
longing to  the  Indians.     Great  as  was  the  quantity  of  pemmi- 


m:Vr' 


212 


r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


HA' 


:i! 


can  obtained  from  the  Indians  during  these  trades — more 
than  thirty  thousand  bags  being  stored  in  the  company's  forts 
at  one  time — it  is  still  small  as  compared  with  the  amount 
produced  in  a  favorable  year  by  the  semi-annual  buffalo-hunts 
of  the  nomadic  half-breeds. 


uiiil 


1 


CHAPTER  X. 

Winter  Travel. 

A  TJTUMN  in  the  Fur  Land  merges  by  almost  imper- 
■^  ^  ceptible  degrees  into  winter.  Nature  yields  reluctantly 
to  the  cold  embraces  of  the  Frost  King.  The  yellow  leaves 
cling  tenaciously  to  the  tree-tops ;  the  prairie  grasses  are  still 
green  when  the  snow  comes.  Early  in  November  a  thin 
covering  of  fleecy  flakes  veils  the  landscape  ;  but  the  South- 
ern sun  is  yet  warm,  and  restores  the  autumal  tints  to  the 
face  of  Nature.  A  few  days  later  on,  the  contest  begins 
anew  :  winter  triumphs  for  a  day,  only  to  be  again  vanquished 
by  autumn.  At  length  the  battle-ground  is  occupied  equally 
by  the  contending  forces.  The  traveled  roads  especially  are 
claimed  by  each ;  and,  plowed  and  furrowed  by  their  fierce 
forays,  afibrd  neither  the  splendid  sleighing  of  the  later  win- 
ter nor  the  dry  wheeling  of  the  summer.  This  has  the  effect 
of  bringing  out  in  full  force  the  various  methods  of  locomo- 
tion peculiar  to  the  Fur  Land.  It  is  refreshing  to  view  fromi 
a  window  fronting  a  well-traveled  highway  the  queer  vehicles 
as  they  pass;  and  if  the  reader  chooses  to  occupy  one-half 
of  our  lookout,  we  can  study  the  shifting  panorama  at  leisure. 
The  picture  before  us  is  framed  by  the  window-sash,  and 
has  a  dreary  perspective  of  prairie,  covered  equally  with  snow 


I 


ii 


IM 


7WA'  t7A'^:.4r  Mrff  f..4Xn. 


iWUS  \\\f  \\\\v^\'iS\\\u\  In  tht*   \iv\\  Uivov  rjtvi.     'I'IiIh  V«*lllt'lr 

with    UuMv  ttitUly  rtni\  \uuTviinn   n^otion,     llr  Knnw«    jii«t 

\vho\>»  hi*  is.  rhone  ortVls  .ur  ill!  \\\'  unHovni  Rhi»|u\  iiml  rtfe 
i^^WslvorhM  tM\tilvty  tM"  \Vx>o«l,  th»'  nxlon  nm!  HniR  lo  thi-  wlicrh 
fvMmin)i  \\\>  o\rr|Mion  lo  ihr  vnlo.  Althounh  thi^  hi  llisl 
sight  wight  .n>jv;\v  t\>  ho  ;\  ilii^itih !»nt!<gi\  ««  tlohoiing  n  wnnl 
tM'  Mivngth.  vol  it  i«  ti^rtlly  tho  t^vet-so,  rts  \\\  \\w  mnnHy 
tvAWvsis^  hv  thoso  vvhirK'«<.  \voo\l  is  iUw;\ys  to  ho  h,»il  in 
s«f^oiottt  v^\«rt«titios  tv>  mon»l  ;\n\  hvo;vkiigo  whiih  \\\.w  ontii'. 
The  t>ttly  tx^ols  tiooossnvy,  \\o{  otUy  to  luoml  hut  to  oonsinit  t 
A  t\^n>  AtM?  AW  rt\t\  ,1  s.iw,  {tn<l  i\\\  itn^iov;  with  thone  the  hrtlf- 
btNf^H^  is  imkponviont  so  f{»v  rts  iho  iwiogrity  of  his  vohiolo  is 
conc^rrtttHi  Invietn!.  tho  tMvt  may  bo  tlosorihoil  jih  it  lij^hi 
tvAv.frjime  \v>is«Hi  upon  An  ,ixlo  «  onnooting  \m)  strong  wotiMon 
x^'hecK  Thoso  ATx^  ot'movo  \\\i\\\  tho  nsu;il  diainoter,  and  siro 
enon«o«sly  iiisho\i.  As  soats  in  vohioU's  aro  ;\  suporHnons 
InxuTv,  <M\ly  acmanihM  hy  tho  ot^bto  oivilizalion  of  the  ICiist, 
the  hAlt"-bro<Hi  cs%  hows  tl>om  altogothor.  'Vho  passenger  sits 
on  the  K>ttv>m  plank,  usually  tho  hanltsl  <>nc  about  tho  oarl; 
«nvi  AS  the  bed  ol  iho  vohiolc  is  lower  tl\an  the  shafts,  his 
h-fH>ls  arc  somewhat  higher  than  his  hips,  whioh  gives  him  the 
grf'^tcT  bcnont  of  the  inequalities  in  the  road  over  whioh  he 
WAV  j-»As&.    When,  as  is  often  the  Cvtse,  the  cover  is  low  and 


H'lNrnn  tNAVki.. 


its 


4     Vfllitli' 

1 1    i'<   M 
nnlitlitv. 

nvH    JMrtt 

,  (\\\i\  rth' 

(  t\\   \h^\ 

i^  ti  WiUX 

ronnh V 

I'  \\[U\  in 
w  ni  rni. 
•onsniii  I 
tho  hall- 
,ohiilo  is 
H  i\  lii^hl 
;  wooilon 
,  ;nul  iue 

HMllnOllH 

[\w  l'<i\ai, 
'ngcr  sits 
tho  oarl ; 
Imi'ts,  luR 
i  him  the 
vhicU  he 
low  and 


tirtthiw,  H«  rtN  IM  tfiMke  tiftetcfiwtry  rt  tttrv/mt)  \wUnntUih  nf  Mr^ 
h»'!t»l,t(tWMf<l  \\\c  ff'ft,  It  h  frtny  Uf  Uuntt,\iu'  the  rnffjfort  of  the 
porttiiK'  nd  It  ^liulf,  \^tt'(\ut'ui\y  fite  pf<«(«erj^cf,  aff^r  licrom- 
iit^  vnHity  of  Ihiw  |if>Hlllofi,  mu\  it\it'ttin^\im  if  wifh  «fi  ntttwpf 
t(»  kn'ji  hl«  ItidjiMr  f  Oh  i(.  ( ft fpff  !»,'»><  or  ofhfr  hiifullf,  fnke* 
hi«  pliicc  with  thf*  (Irlvff  oh  th«  nhttfi.  tU'  wny  sit  oppttnitt 
Ahloihc,  Iku  k  lo  l)(uk,or  lihfhfflifttcly  )whhn\  him  j  (hf  firni' 
ItiiiiUMl  |ioHilioh  h»'ihj<  ihf;  mo«l  n;tt\nfn<inty  to  th<r  ^'lf;l^tOfie», 
the  hml-hiiMH'il  Ilhi«ilr/ilihj4  tht;  hrofhfrho/;fl  of  r/u;c<»  withotit 
liny  iippK't  iiihh'  h»«M  of  Mp;<(:<'.  With  this  vt;huU:,  hftwcvt-Tf 
thf  hdllvf  i«  ihthpffwh-ht  of  the  rest  of  thf;  worhl,  nn<\  indrf* 
ferenl  In  ihc  Icii^lh  of  his  jonrhey.  M'-  sfmps  «  raw-hide 
ovtM  il  III  iii^hl  )(h(l  irmkcs  of 
it  II  teiil  ;  hi'  Hir/ipfl  rt  rnw-hlde 
hiuh'i  it  (Hi«l  iiKikcH  of  it  .1 
tiortt  Ih  whi»  h  he  i  rimscs  nny 
Strcrtin  hr  riuiy  mcrl.  'I'hcrf; 
(irc  no  MifitK'H  lo  ihjiiro  its 
whcois,  nnd  Ihr  ptfiirie  sod 
heiufl  lip  the  wcif^ht  of  the 
bro.'vd  wooden  fcHocs  where  an  iron  tire  woidd  hrcnk  throiij(h« 
lIiiMc  iniinn  of  ihose  vehirlcs  are  tinted  ir?  'f^i(ihtir)g  ovftf  the 
iiorllurn  phiins;  jind  they  fnrnf^h  -.he  . ,  : '  mear>»  <yf  land 
tninsporliition  in  the  eoiintry 

The  single  cart  kept  by  c?:ch  h.i'f-hrced  instead  of  a 
buggy,  nnd  devoted  to  the  conveyaiKi^  r/f  his  wife  and  famiiy, 
is,  however,  much  more  elal>r>rately  (oiten-up  tba,-»  those  des- 
tined for  the  commoner  uses  of  frcij(hting.  The  whceh  and 
shafts  are  shaved  down  to  more  deiicate  prartortions ;  tbe 


il 


'n't    f/UfPI.    V.'IV. 


£1 .  ^  '^(mat 


i 


^^^" 


I.  m 


Mr 


216 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


body  is  decorated  with  certain  mystical  emblems  in  red  and 
yellow  ochre,  supposed  to  represent  flowers ;  while  over  it  is 
stretched  a  covering  of  oil-cloth  or  dressed  skins  to  protect 
the  fair  traveler  from  the  inclement  weather.  It  is  drawn, 
too,  by  the  best  pony  in  the  half-breed's  herd,  and  becomes 
as  legitimate  a  subject  of  rivalry  as  the  equipage  of  her  more 
highly  civilized  sister.  Like  the  freight  cart,  its  wheels 
are  always  guiltless  of  grease.  The  creaking  that  results 
the  natives  are  very  proud  of,  having  no  wish,  as  they  say,  to 
steal  upon  people  unawares,  like  a  thief  in  the  night.  A 
perfectly  new  cart  is  seldom  seen ;  each  being  in  a  greater  or 
less  condition  of  fracture  and  dislocation,  and  splintered 
and  bandaged  with  raw-hide  thongs. 

Every  cart  is  drawn  by  a  single  pony  or  ox  ;  the  latter, 
which  is  most  affected  for  freighting  purposes,  will  draw  a 
load  of  nine  hundred  pounds  at  the  rate  of  twenty-five  miles 
per  day.     The  steed  is  fastened  between  the  shafts  by  means 
of  a  rude  harness,  generally  made  of  dressed  ox-hide.     We 
have  seen  this  same  harness,  however,  made  in  a  much  more 
novel  fashion.     In  buffiilo-hunting,  when  the  harness  gives 
out,  it  is  the  habit  of  the   half-breed,  always  fertile  of  re- 
source, to  manufacture  a  new  one  made  all  in  one  piece. 
Killing  a  buffalo  bull,  he   skillfully  marks  out  his   harness 
on  the  hide  of  the  fallen  animal,  then  strips  it  off  with  his 
knife.     A  fesw  hours'  exposure  in  the  sun  dries  it,  a  string  or 
two  supply  the  place  of  the  necessary  buckles,  and  it  imme 
diately  does  duty  on  the  back  of  pony  or  ox.     The  long 
lines  called  shaganappi,  that  are  used  for  so  many  purposes 


WINTER   TRAVEL. 


217 


fU 


i  1'  J 
ill  :i 


in  the  country,  are  all  made  in  a  similar  fashion.  They  are 
carved  out  from  the  hind-quarters  of  a  bull,  by  forming  a 
series  of  spirally-enlarging  circular  cuts,  passing  the  knife 
under  them,  and  lifting  off  the  hide  exactly  like  the  skin  of  a 
well  peeled  apple  or  orange.  The  ends  are  then  attached  to 
twv  jtakes,  between  which  the  strips  being  tightly  stretched, 
soon  become  a  straight  and  perfect  line. 

In  traveling  with  carts — the  common  method  of  summer 
locomotion  on  the  northern  plains — generally  as  many  ponies 
1  :n  loose  alongside  as  are  worked  in  harness.  These  loose 
rt  /».e"  one  ir.ight  fancy,  would  be  prone  to  gallop  away  when 
tne/  na  '  themseWes  at  liberty  to  do  so.  Nothing  seems 
further  from  their  thoughts;  they  trot  along  beside  their 
hurncsed  jomi  anions  as  if  they  knew  all  about  it.  When 
the  shaft  «n'»'nr.;  tires,  to  change  horses  is  the  work  of  but  a 
moment.  Oat  comes  one  horse;  the  other  is  standing  close 
by  and  never  stirs  while  the  hot  harness  is  put  on  him  ;  in  he 
goes  into  the  rough  shafts,  and,  with  the  crack  of  the  driver's 
whip  across  his  flanks,  starts  away  with  the  rest.  The  fact 
that  the  pony  m?-  v^ver  have  been  in  harness  before  makes 
no  sort  of  difT»r''..'Cij  \q,  the  driver.  At  first  the  animal  re- 
fuses to  mo-  ^a  inch;  in'^n  comes  loud  and  prolonged 
thwacking  from  .  '  oreeds  and  Indians.  Whips,  raw-hide 
lines  an  •  sticks  arc  ♦'•'^p!)  used,  when,  like  an  arrow  from  a 
bow,  away  goes  the  pony ;  suddenly  he  makes  a  dead  stop, 
gives  tv,  o  or  three  plunges  high  in  the  air,  and  falls  down  flat 
upon  the  ground.     Again  comes  the  threshing,   and  again 

up  starts  the  pony  and  off  like  a  rocket.     Ox-hide  harness  is 

10 


2l8 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


tough ;  a  broken  cart  is  easily  mended ;  and  for  all  horses 
the  native  has  this  simple  method  of  persuasion. 

In  fine  contrast  to  this  method  of  locomotion  appears  the 
native  horseman  just  passing.  Mounted  on  a  little  wiry  ash- 
colored  pony,  he  rides  with  that  free,  swinging  motion  pecu- 
liar to  the  practiced  equestrian.  And  he  is,  perhaps,  one 
of  the  finest  horsemen  in  the  world.  His  long  dark-blue 
capote,  and  jaunty  fur  cap  with  pendent  tassel,  impart  some- 
thing of  a  military  air  to  hi  appearance.  He  sits  squarely 
upon  a  small  pad  of  deer-skiii  '  *  ~iles  with  a  long  stirrup. 
Every  motion  of  the  horse,  g,"  .!  more  by  the  pressure 
of  the  knee  than  the  bridle-rein,  is  anticipated  and  met 
intuitively  by  the  rider.  There  is  no  half-way  gait  with  this 
impulsive  horseman ;  he  goes  either  at  a  walk  or  a  mad 
gallop,  and  seldom  exchanges  this  method  of  locomotion 
save  for  the  canoe,  the  snowshoe,  or  the  dog-sledge.  Com- 
mon pedestrianism  is  to  him  a  lost  art.  The  fact  that  he 
»:ould  walk  to  his  next  neighbor's  door  never  seems  to  occur 
to  him. 

His  little  lithe,  sinewy  ponies  are  faithful  beyond  descrip- 
tion, yet  a  fine-looking  one  is  seldom  seen.  They  stand 
about  the  dooryards  with  a  discouraged,  heart-broken  air, 
and  will  take  considerable  pounding  without  much  exhibi- 
tion of  life.  Yet  they  endure  privations  and  hardships  bet- 
ter than  their  more  delicately-nurtured  brethren.  True,  if 
you  ride  them  about  the  settlements,  you  are  at  first  nearly 
pitched  over  every  gate  and  fence  you  come  to.  When  your 
pony  catches  sight  of  one  of  these  he  makes  for  it,  and  sud- 


U  'III '  i' 


WINTER    TRAVEL. 


219 


1  horses 

)ears  the 
viry  ash- 
)n  pecu- 
laps,  one 
lark-blue 
.rt  some- 
squarely 
r  Ktirrup. 

pressure 
and  met 
with  this 
)r  a  mad 
comction 
-  Com- 
that  he 

to  occur 

i  descrip- 
ey  stand 
oken  air, 
exhibi- 
hips  bet- 
True,  if 
rst  nearly 
hen  your 
and  sud- 


denly  stands  stock  still,  as  a  hint  to  you  to  dismount  and  tie 
him  up — an  illustration  of  the  gossiping  habits  of  his  late 
owner.  But  out  on  the  plains  the  daily  distance  compassed 
by  these  ponies  without  breaking  down  altogether  under  it 
seems  scarcely  credible  ;  still  less  does  it  appear  possible 
upon  the  food  which  they  have  to  eat.  Neither  hay  nor  oats 
is  given  them — nothing  but  the  prairie  grasses,  often  dry 
as  tinder,  and  eaten  only  during  the  frosty  hours  of  the 
night.  From  forty  to  fifty  miles  a  day,  stopping  only  for 
one  hour  at  midday,  and  going  on  again  until  late  at  night,  is 
but  average  travel. 

Of  course  the  stranger  journeys  on  in  constant  fear  lest 
the  game  little  limbs  will  grow  weary  and  give  out  ;  but 
no,  not  a  bit  of  it.  An  Indian  pony  does  not  die  of  hard 
travel.  His  shaggy  coat  roughens,  and  his  flanks  grow  a 
little  thinner,  but  still  he  goes  on  as  pluckily  as  ever.  If  very 
tired  he  sometimes  lags  behind  until  his  companions  have 
disappeared  behind  some  distant  ridge  in  the  prairie  ;  then  he 
begins  to  look  anxiously  around,  whinnying  and  trying  to 
get  along  after  his  comrades,  and  suddenly  breaks  into  a 
wild  dash  down  the  trail  until  he  regains  his  fellows — far- 
away specks  in  the  great  waste  before  him.  When  the  night 
camp  is  reached  the  little  animal  is  stripped,  the  thong  of  soft 
buffalo-skin  untied  from  his  neck  and  twisted  well  about 
his  forelegs  as  a  hopple,  and  he  jumps  away  into  the  darkness 
to  find  his  night's  provender.  He  feeds  and  lodges  himself 
and  carries  his  master  ;  all  he  gets  in  return  is  a  water-hole 
cut  in  the  ice  for  him  in  winter,  and  not  always  even  that. 


220 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


I  tit  I 


Trotting  briskly  into  the  foreground  comes  a  diminutive 
pony  in  harness.  A  moment  after  appears  the  long  pair  of 
shafts  to  which  he  is  attached,  and,  just  when  you  have  given 
over  all  hope  of  ever  seeing  their  end,  comes  the  vehicle  of 
which  all  this  is  the  propelling  power.  It  does  not  come 
straight  into  the  scene,  like  any  other  well-conducted  vehicle, 
but  zigzags  into  it,  winding  from  one  side  of  the  road  to  the 
other,  as  if  it  had  a  drop  too  much.  It  acts  as  a  sort  of  peri- 
patetic pendulum,  of  which  the  diminutive  pony  is  the  pivot ; 
even  the  hinder  parts  of  that  animal  partaking  of  the  vibrat- 
ing motion  of  the  vehicle,  so  '^-  \\.  he  seems  certain  only  as  to 
where  his  forelegs  are  going.  This  conveyance  looks  like  a 
ship  set  on  runners.  It  is  »'ery  low  amidships  but  very  lofty 
as  to  poop  and  forecastle  ;  it  L"-'  broad  in  beam,  and,  the 
runners  being  not  more  than  six  inches  high,  there  is  always 
a  pleasing  uncertainty  as  to  when  it  will  capsize.  It  inevi- 
tably must,  sooner  or  later,  but  just  when  is  the  conundrum. 
There  are  two  seats,  one  low  down  amidships,  the  other  high 
up  in  the  stern  of  the  craft.  The  driver  sits  forward,  yells 
constantly  at  his  pony  and  pushes  on  the  lines  to  increase  its 
speed;  the  passengers  sit  aft,  with  anticipation  written  on 
their  countenances,  and  the  sensation  of  being  whirled  alonig 
without  any  visible  motive  power — the  horse  being  so  far 
distant  as  seemingly  to  bear  no  relation  to  the  vehicle.  It  is 
the  cariole,  native  to  the  country,  and  the  best  equipage  for 
general  love-making  we  know  of.  Darby  and  Joan  take  a 
seat  in  the  stern  of  the  craft ;  the  driver  sits  in  the  bow  and 
looks  at  his  horse  alone,  heaping  on  it   plentiful  profanity 


WINTER   TRAVEL. 


221 


I  « 


discreetly  veiled  in  the  heathen  tongues.  The  back  seat, 
following  the  shape  of  the  sledge,  gravitates  toward  the 
centre;  so  do  Darby  and  Joan,  until  they  really  seem  to 


A    CARIOLB. 


assimilate,  so  to  speak.  In  fact,  they  are  in  a  manner  obliged 
to  hold  fast  to  each  other,  as  the  sledge  overturns  at  the 
slightest  provocation.  It  is  a  pleasant  spectacle  to  see  the 
well-freighted  carioles,  gay  with  gaudily-lined  robes  and 
wraps,  careering  along  the  highway ;  but  it  is  still  more 
pleasant  to  sit  on  that  back  seat  and  slowly  gravitate  toward 
Clarise  or  Angelique. 

There  comes  midway  into  our  picture  the  figure  of  a  man 
moving  over  the  surface  of  the  snow  with  a  swinging  move- 
ment, like  that  of  a  fen-skater.  Evidently  he  has  something 
attached  to  his  feet — something  that  clings  to  the  toes,  yet 
drops  from  the  heels,  and  trails  upon  the  enow  as  he  raises 
a  foot.     Ah,  he  is  a  snowshoe  runner ! 

To  walk  well  on  deep  snow,  to  follow  the  dogs,  to  run 
down  the  moose,  there  is  nothing  like  snowshoes.  These  are 
composed  of  a  light  wooden  frame,  about  four  feet  in  length, 


• 


222 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAND. 


tapering  from  a  width  of  about  fifteen  inches  at  the  centre 
to  points  at  either  end,  the  toes  being  turned  up  so  as  to  pre- 
vent tripping.  Over  this  frame  a  netting  of  deer-skin  sinews 
or  threads  is  stretched  for  the  foot  of  the  runner  to  rest 
upon.  The  object  of  this  appliance  is  by  a  thin  network  to 
distribute  the  weight  of  the  wearer  over  so  large  a  surface  of 
snow  as  will  prevent  him  from  sinking.  The  credit  of  the 
invention  is  due  to  the  Indians,  and,  like  that  of  the  canoe 
and  other  Indian  instruments,  it  is  so  perfectly  suited  to  the 
object  in  view  as  not  to  be  susceptible  of  improvement  by  the 
whites.  On  snowshoes  an  Indian  or  half-breed  will  travel 
thirty,  forty,  and  sometimes  even  fifty  miles  in  twenty-four 
hours.  It  is  the  common  and  indeed  the  only  available  mode 
of  foot-travel  away  from  the  public  highways  in  winter. 

But  here  comes  the  winter  vehicle  of  the  Fur  Land !  The 
traveler  who  lingers  long  at  any  season  of  the  year  about  a 
Hudson  Bay  Company's  fort  will  be  struck  with  the  unusual 
number  of  dogs  lying  about  the  square  court  during  the  day, 
or  howling  and  fighting  underneath  his  windows  at  night. 
To  leave  his  door  open  at  any  time  is  only  to  invite  an  in- 
vasion of  the  wolfish  brutes,  who  come  crowding  up,  and 
seem  inclined  to  take  possession  of  the  apartment.  During 
the  summer  season  they  do  nothing  for  man,  but  pass  their 
time  in  war,  love,  robbery,  and  music,  if  their  m.ournful  howls 
can  be  dignified  by  that  name.  And  yet,  neglected  as  are  these 
noisy,  dirty  animals  in  their  months  of  idleness,  unfed,  kept 
in  bare  life  by  plunder,  the  mark  for  every  passer's  stick  or 
stone,  they  are  highly  prized  by  their  owners,  and  a  team  of 


m 


WINTER    TRAVEL. 


223 


fine,  good,  well-trained  dogs  will  bring  a  handsome  price  when 
the  winter  season  approaches.  Then  two  well-broken  dogs 
become  as  valuable  as  a  horse  ;  then  it  is  the  dogs  that  haul 
the  sledges  and  that  perform,  in  fact,  nearly  all  the  work  of 
the  country. 


HUDSON  S     BAY      DOCS. 


These  animals  are  mostly  of  the  ordinary  Indian  kind, 
large,  long-legged,  and  wolfish,  with  sharp  muzzles,  pricked 
ears,  and  thick,  straight,  wiry  hair.     White  is  one  of  the  most 


HI 


i|4|H 


,':. 


**« 


,11 

Mi 


Ill 


H  9 


224 


T//E  CUE  A  T  FUR  LAND. 


usual  colors,  but   brown,  blue-grey,  red,  yellow,  and   white 
marked  with  spots  of  black,  or  of  the  other  various  hues,  are 
also    common.     Some  of  them  are   black  with  white  paws, 
others  are  covered  with  long  rough  hair,  like  Russian   setters. 
There  are  others  of  a  light  bluish-grey,  with  dark,  almost  black 
spots  spread  over  the  whole  body.     Almost  all  of  them  have 
black  noses,  but  with  some  of  the  lighter-colored  ones  this 
part  is  red,  brown,  or  pink,   which  has  a  very   ugly  effect. 
Most  of  them  are  very  wolfish  in  appearance,  many  being 
half  or  partly,  or  all  but    entirely,  wolves  in    blood.      One 
frequently  sees  dark-grey  dogs  which  are  said  to  be  almost 
pure  wolves.     Seen  upon  the  prairie,  it  is  almost  impossible 
to  distinguish  them  from  the  ordinary  wolf  of  the  middle- 
sized  variety  ;  and  their  tempers  are  spoken  of  as  a  match  for 
their  looks.     Indeed  it  often  happens  that  the  drivers  of  such 
dogs  are  obliged,  before  harnessing  or  unharnessing  them,  to 
stun  them  momentarily  by  a  blow  on  the  nose,  on  account  of 
their   savage    natures.      Many  of  the  others,  moreover,  are 
nearly  as  bad,  and  need  a  touch  of  the  same  rough  treatment. 
In  some  instances  the  worse  animals  are  emasculated,  with 
a  view  of  improving  their  tempers  without  rendering  them 
unfit  for  work. 

It  sometimes  happens,  however,  that  among  this  howling 
pack  of  mongrels  there  may  be  picked  out  a  genuine  train  of 
dogs.  There  is  no  mistake  about  them  in  size  or  form,  from 
foregoer  to  hindmost  hauler.  They  are  of  pure  Esquimaux 
breed,  the  bush-tailed,  fox-headed,  long-furred,  clean-legged 
animals,  whose  ears,  sharp-pointed  and  erect,  spring  from  a 


■Hi 


WINTER    TRAVEL. 


225 


he"d  embedded  in  thick  tufts  of  wooly  hair.  Or  there  may 
be  a  cross  of  Esquimaux  and  Athabascan,  with  hair  so  long 
that  the  eyes  are  scarcely  visible.  These  animals  have  come 
from  the  far-northern  districts,  and  have  brought  a  round  sum 
to  their  owners.  They  are  of  much  more  equable  temper  than 
their  wolfish  brethren,  and  frequently  have  a  keen  apprecia- 
tion of  kindness.  To  haul  is  as  natural  to  them  as  to  point  is 
natural  to  a  pointer.  Longer  than  any  other  dogs  will  their 
clean  feet  hold  tough  over  the  rough  ice.  But  it  is  with  dog- 
driving  as  with  everything  else  ;  there  are  dogs  and  dogs,  and 
the  difference  between  their  mental  and  physical  characteris- 
tics are  as  great  as  between  those  of  average  men. 

The  vehicles  to  which  dogs  are  harnessed  in  the  Fur  Land 
are  of  three  kinds — the  passenger-sledge,  or  dog-cariole,  the 
freight-sledge,  and  the  travaille.  A  cariole  consists  of  a  very 
thin  board,  usually  not  over  half  an  inch  thick,  fifteen  to 
twenty  inches  wide,  and  about  ten  feet  long,  turned  up  at  one 
end  in  the  form  of  a  half  circle,  like  the  bend  of  an  Ojibway 
canoe.  To  this  board  a  light  frame-work,  resembling  a  coffin 
or  a  slipper-bath,  is  attached,  about  eighteen  inches  from  the 
rear  end.  This  frame-work  is  then  covered  over  with  buffalo- 
skin  parchment,  and  painted  and  decorated  according  to 
taste.  When  traveling,  it  is  lined  with  buffalo-robes  and 
blankets,  in  the  midst  of  which  the  passenger  sits,  or  rather 
reclines  ;  the  vehicle  being  prevented  from  capsizing  by  the 
driver,  who  runs  behind  oa  snowshoes,  holding  on  to  a  line 
attached  to  the  back  part  of  the  cariole.     The  projecting  end 

or  floor  behind  the  passenger's  seat  is  utilized  as  a  sort  of  boot 
10* 


:  I; 


!?■  ' 


'iiH 


tii;l 


\  It 


;-t 


r  I 


I  i  5 


u 


i 

■1 

'I  J . 

J 

^ 

11 

Hn 

4 
< 

mM 

1" 

s 

M 

k 

tULi 

jj 

njs^il 

226 


r//E  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


upon  which  to  tie  baggage,  or  as  a  platform  upon  which  the 
driver  may  stand  to  gain  a  temporary  respite  when  tired  of 
running. 

The  freight-sledge  is  of  more  simple  construction.  It  is 
made  of  two  thin  oak  or  birch-wood  boards  lashed  together 
with  deer-skin  thongs.  Turned  up  in  front,  like  a  Norwegian 
snowshoe — scarcely  a  quarter  of  a  circle — it  is  from  nine 
to  twelve  feet  in  length,  and  sixteen  inches  broad.     It  runs 


A    FRRIGHT-SLBDGE. 


over  hard  snow  or  ice  with  great  ease.  Along  its  outer  edges 
a  leather  lashing  is  run,  through  the  loops  of  which  a  long 
leather  line  is  passed  to  tie  down  tightly  to  its  surface  what- 
ever may  be  placed  upon  it.  From  the  front,  close  to  the 
turned-up  portion,  in  both  baggage-sledge  and  cariole,  the 
traces  for  draught  are  attached. 

Dogs  in  the  Fur  Land  are  harnessed  in  a  number  of  ways. 
The  Esquimaux  run  their  dogs  abreast.  On  the  coast  of 
Hudson's  Bay  they  are  harnessed  by  many  separate  lines 
into  a  kind  of  band  or  pack  ;  while  in  Manitoba  and  the 
Saskatchewan  they  are  driven  tandem.  Four  dogs  to  each 
sledge  form  a  complete  train,  though  three  and  even  two 
are  used,  and  are  harnessed  to  the  cariole  by  means  of  two 
long  traces.  Between  these  traces  the  dogs  stand  one  after 
.the  other,  with  a  space  intervening  between  them  of  perhaps  a 


r? 


'hich  the 
tired  of 

n.     It  is 

together 

orwegian 

am    nine 

It  runs 


ter  edges 
.h  a  long 
ace  what- 
se  to  the 
iriole,  the 

■  of  ways. 

coast  of 
ate   lines 

and  the 
!  to  each 
even  two 
IS  of  two 
one  after 
perhaps  a 


WINTER  TRAVEL. 


227 


foot.  A  round  collar,  passing  over  the  head  and  ears  and 
fitting  closely  to  the  shoulder,  buckles  on  each  side  to  the 
traces,  which  are  supported  by  a  back-band  of  leather.  This 
"ck-band  is  generally  covered  with  tiny  bells,  the  collar 
ueing  hung  with  those  of  larger  size,  and  decorated  with 
party-colored  ribbons  or  fox-tails.  In  no  single  article  of 
property,  perhaps,  is  greater  pride  taken  than  in  a  train  ot 
dogs  turned  out  in  good  style  ;  and  the  undue  amount  of 
beads,  bells,  and  ribbons,  frequently  employed  to  bedizen 
the  poor  brutes,  produces  the  most  comical  effect  when 
placed  upon  some  terror-stricken  dog,  who,  when  first  put 
into  harness,  usually  looks  the  picture  of  fear,  resembling 
a  chief  mourner  clad  in  the  garb  of  Pantaloon.  The  It  'i- 
crous  effect  is  intensified  when  the  victim  happens  to  be 
ung  in  years,  and  still  retains  the  peculiar  expression  of 
^appyhood. 

The  rate  of  speed  usually  attained  in  sledge-travel  is  about 
forty  miles  per  day  of  ten  hours,  although  this  rate  is  often  nearly 
doubled.  Four  miles  an  hour  is  a  common  dog-trot  when  the 
animals  are  well  loaded  ;  but  this  can  be  greatly  exceeded  when 
hauling  a  cariole  containing  a  single  passenger  upon  smooth 
snow-crust  or  a  beaten  track.  Very  frequently  extraordinary 
distances  are  compassed  by  a  well-broken  train  of  dogs.  An  in- 
stance is  recorded  where  a  young  Scotch  half-breed,  driving 
the  mail-sledge  between  Fort  Garry  and  Pembina,  was  desir- 
ous of  attending  the  wedding  of  his  sister,  which  was  to  occur 
at  seven  o'clock  of  the  morning  following  the  evening  of  his 
regular  departure  for  the  latter  place.     To  do  this  he  would 


^lll! 


It;.':  I 


228 


"^HE  CREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


iili 


\fH: 


have  to  make  the  journey  in  a  single  night.  Leaving  Fort 
Garry  at  five  o'clock  in  the  evening,  he  reported  again  with  his 
return  mail  at  a  quarter  to  seven  o'clock  the  following  morn- 
ing, having  compassed  a  distance  of  one  hundred  and  thirty- 
five  miles  in  a  single  night  with  the  same  train  of  dogs.  This 
remarkable  speed  is  capable  of  ample  verification.  Sixty 
to  eighty  miles  per  day  is  not  infrequently  made  in  the  way 
of  passenger  travel.  Mr.  McFarlane,  a  company's  officer, 
made  the  journey  down  from  Mackenzie  River,  a  distance  of 
twenty-one  hundred  miles,  in  forty-six  traveling  days,  using 
the  same  dogs  the  entire  way.  An  average  train  of  four  dogs 
will  trot  briskly  along  with  three  hundred  pounds'  weight 
without  difficulty.  Trains  loaded  to  travel  short  distances 
with  a  barrel  of  liquor  and  two  sacks  of  flour,  or  about  six 
hundred  and  eighty  pounds  avoirdupois,  are  not  an  uncom- 
mon sight.  This  weight  is  exceptional,  however,  and  only  to 
be  hauled  when  the  roads  are  perfect. 

When  light  showers  of  snow  fall  in  minute  particles,  as 
if  it  were  frozen  dew,  from  a  sky  without  a  cloud,  and  the  sun 
shining  brightly,  the  winter  traveler  in  the  Fur  Land  knows 
just  what  degree  of  cold  he  may  expect.  He  knoxt^s  that 
masses  of  ice,  the  size  of  a  man's  fist,  will  form  on  his  beard 
and  mustache,  from  the  moisture  of  his  breath  freezing  as  it 
passes  through  the  hair  ;  that  his  eye-lashes  will  have  to 
be  kept  in  rapid  motion  to  prevent  them  from  becoming 
permanently  closed  ;  that  his  hands  can  scarcely  be  exposed 
for  a  moment  ;  that  his  bare  fingers  laid  upon  a  gun-barrel 
will  stick  to  it  as  if  glued,  from  the  instantaneous  freezing  of 


Hi 


WINTER    Tl  iVEL. 


229 


their  moisture  ;  that  the  snow  will  melt  only  close  to  the  fire, 
which  forms  a  trench  for  itself,  in  which  it  sinks  slowly  to 
the  level  of  the  ground  ;  that  the  snow,  light  and  powdery, 
will  not  melt  beneath  the  warmth  of  his  fooi,  and  his  mocca- 
sins will  be  as  dry  on  the  journey  as  if  he  had  walked  through 
sawdust ;  that  a  crust  of  ice  will  form  over  the  tea  in  his  tin- 
cup,  as  he  sits  within  a  yard  of  the  roaring  fire ;  that  he  will 
have  a  ravenous  appetite  for  fat,  and  can  swallow  great  lumps 
of  hard  grease — unmoulded  tallow  candles — without  bread  or 
anything  to  modify  it.  So  he  dresses  accordingly — that  is, 
the  white  traveler. 

He  first  puts  on  three  or  four  flannel  shirts,  one  of  duffel, 
and  over  all  a  leather  one,  beaded  and  fringed  to  suit  the 
taste  ;  his  hands  are  encased  in  mittaines,  or  large  gloves  of 
moose-skin,  made  without  fingers,  and  extending  well  up 
toward  the  elbows  ;  loose  enough  to  be  easily  doffed  on 
occasion,  and  carried  slung  by  a  band  about  the  neck  to  pre- 
vent being  lost ;  his  feet  are  swathed  in  duffel,  and  covered 
with  enormous  moccasins  ;  his  legs  are  encased  in  thick  duffel 
leggins,  until  they  resemble  a  severe  case  of  elephantiasis  ;  his 
ears  and  neck  are  protected  by  a  thick  curtain  of  fur ;  and 
yet,  with  it  all,  he  is  hardly  able  to  keep  warm  with  the  most 
active  exercise. 

With  his  Indian  or  half-breed  companion  it  is  different. 
Inured  to  the  climate  and  accustomed  to  winter  travel,  he  is 
comfortable  under  a  meagre  weight  of  clothing.  He  relies 
upon  vigorous  exercise  for  the  development  of  caloric,  and 
is  constantly  in  motion.     A  pair  of  corduroy  trousers,  a  cotton 


230 


THE  ORE  A  T  FUR  LAND. 


shirt,  a  capote,  moccasins  and  a  fur  cap,  constitute  his  winter 
costume.  His  hands  are  encased  in  mittaines,  but  in  lieu  of 
underclothing  he  ties  his  trousers  tightly  about  the  ankle, 
and  the  sleeves  of  his  capote  closely  about  the  wrists.  This, 
with  the  gaudy  sash  always  wrapped  around  his  waist,  divides 
his  clothing  into  two  air-tight  compartments,  as  it  were.  If 
it  becomes  cold  in  one,  he  always  has  the  other  in  which  to 
take  refuge  ;  or,  he  can  loosen  his  belt,  thus  turning  on  a 
supply  of  caloric,  which  equalizes  the  temperature  in  both 
compartments.  Lightly  clad,  he  is  in  excellent  trim  for  run- 
ning, and  seems  warm  and  comfortable  while  his  more  heavily 
appareled  companion  shakes  and  shivers  on  the  slightest  halt. 

Next  in  importance  to  personal  clothing  on  the  winter 
journey  is  transportation  ;  and  as  the  snow  is  too  deep  for 
horses  to  travel,  the  only  available  vehicle  remaining  is  the 
dog-sledge.  Upon  this  is  placed  the  blankets  and  pemmican, 
together  with  the  paraphernalia  of  the  camp.  Tents  are  not 
used  for  winter  travel,  as  the  huge  fires  necessary  for  com- 
fort and  even  safety  could  not  be  made  available.  In  fact, 
unless  it  is  desirable  to  make  a  long  halt  in  any  one  locality, 
tents  are  only  an  incumbrance  to  the  traveler,  without  adding 
proportionately  to  his  comfort.  Well  sheltered  ^y  timber, 
and  with  an  enormous  fire  blazing  at  his  feet,  sleeping  in  the 
open  air  is  generally  feasible  enough. 

As  to  dogs  for  his  sledge,  the  traveler  follows  the  custom 
of  the  country  and  takes  the  best  he  can  get.  Every  canine 
in  the  Fur  Land,  without  regard  to  age,  sex,  or  previous  con- 
dition of  servitude,  hauls  a  sledge  in  the  winter  months  ;  so 


WINTER   TRAVEL, 


231 


s  winter 
1  lieu  of 
J  ankle, 
.     This, 
,  divides 
ere.     If 
ivhich  to 
ng  on  a 
in  both 
for  run- 
i  heavily 
;est  halt, 
e  winter 
deep  for 
ig  is  the 
mmican, 
s  are  not 
or  com- 
In  fact, 
locality, 
It  adding 
timber, 
ng  in  the 

e  custom 
•y  canine 
ous  con- 
nths ;  so 


that  he  has  an  unlimited  opportunity  of  selection  ;  any  one 
he  may  take  being  only  the  choice  of  a  greater  or  less  evil. 
He  is;  always  careful,  however,  not  to  select  too  many  yellow 
dogs  tor  service  in  the  same  train.     The  fact  is,  that  in  haul- 
ing the  dog  is  put  to  a  work  from  which  his  whole  nature 
revolts  ;  that  is  to  say,  the  ordinary  yellow  dog.     The  result 
being,  that  just  when  one  imagines  everything  to  be  going  on 
swimmingly,  and  after  he  is  well  wrapped  in  robes  and  fairly 
seated  in  the  sledge,  the  four  yellow  dogs    in  front  of   him 
suddenly  stop,  face  about  in  harness,  seat  themselves  calmly, 
and  with  tears  in  their  dark-blue  eyes,  break  forth  into  howls 
of  regret  at  their  inability  to   proceed  farther.     There  have 
been  men  distinguished  for  kindness  and  humanity  toward 
their  fellows,  and  yet  who,  when  placed  in  circumstances  like 
these,  gave  way  to  a  sublimated  and  lurid  profanity  which 
would  have  curled  the  hair  on  a  bronze  idol.     For  mere  dress- 
parade  the  yellow  dog  may  do  very  well,  but  he  is  not  to  be 
relied  upon  as  a  steady  and  persistent  hauler.     The  experi- 
enced traveler  generally  inclines  to  a  large  raw-boned  canine 
of  a  grisly-grey  color,  and  possessing  many  of  the  distinguish- 
ing characteristics  of  the  wolf.    This  fellow  is  hard  to  manage, 
treacherous,  and  a  fierce  fighter.     When  near  the  settlements, 
the  safety  of  young  calves  and   pigs  necessitate  his   being 
securely  tied  ;  but  he  is  a  strong,  untiring,  and  steady  hauler, 
and  his  temper  can  be  kept  in  subjection  by  the  lash. 

To  assist  his  own  locomotion,  the  traveler  ties  on  his 
largest  pair  of  snowshoes,  say  five  feet  long  and  fifteen 
inches  wide.     A  man  can  walk  much  faster  on  "-nowshoes, 


i 


h !' 


I: 


i  ( 'I 


>]i 


'  I 


:\\     (i\ 


' 


232 


TB£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


with  a  fair  track,  than  on  the  best  road  without  them ;  but 
when  the  trail  is  frozen  perfectly  hard,  the  traveler  casts 
them  off,  and  runs  behind  the  dogs,  who  are  able  to  gallop  at 
great  speed  along  the  slippery  path  ;  and  in  this  manner  the 
most  extraordinary  journeys  have  been  made.  With  a  crack 
of  the  whip,  and  a  harsh  command  to  the  dogs,  the  train 
moves  off.  After  that,  a  perpetual  shouting  and  cursing 
cracking  of  whips  and  howling  of  dogs,  seems  necessary  to 
keep  the  cavalcade  in  motion.  And  it  is  scarcely  to  be 
wondered  at  when  one  comes  to  consider  the  conduct  of  the 
dogs  at  the  very  beginning  of  the  journey. 

The  start  is  generally  made  at  a  very  early  hour  in  the 
morning  ;  for  the  traveler  invariably  accomplishes  a  good 
portion  of  his  day's  tramp  before  breakfast.  It  is,  say,  two 
long  hours  before  daybreak  when  the  dogs  are  put  in  har- 
ness. It  is  a  morning  of  bitter  cold  ;  a  faint  old  moon  hangs 
low  down  in  the  east ;  over  the  dreary  stretch  of  snow-covered 
plain  a  shadowy  Aurora  flickers  across  the  stars  ;  it  is  all  as 
wild  and  cheerless  a  spectacle  as  the  eye  can  look  upon  ;  and 
the  work  of  getting  the  unwilling  dogs  in  their  harness  is  done 
by  the  half-breeds  in  no  very  amiable  mood.  In  the  haste 
and  darkness  of  the  time  but  scant  attention  is  given  to  getting 
the  cowering  brutes  into  their  proper  places  in  the  traces.  In 
consequence,  when  the  traveler  assumes  charge  of  his  sledge, 
an  ominous  tendency  to  growl  and  fight  tell^  him  that  some- 
thing is  wrong  in  his  train.  It  is  too  dark  to  see  plainly,  but 
a  touch  of  the  cold  nose  of  the  leader  informs  him  that  the 
right  dog  is  in  the   wrong   1  lace.     It  is  too  late,  however,  to 


but 


WINTER    TRAVEL. 


233 


rectify  the  mistake  ;  the  half-breeds  are  already  off,  and  the 
sound  of  their  dire  anathemas  grows  fainter  and  fainter  upon 
the  ear.     So  the  whip  is  mercilessly  applied,  and,  amid  the 


yells  of  the  unhappy  brutes,  the  sledge   grinds    slowly    off 
through  the  frozen  snow. 

But  the  memory  of  that  mistake  rankles  i.i  the  breast  ot 


1  - 
I 


234 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


m  I 


't 


"^4^^ 


'M,\. 


■MlfeS-ii.: 


^y"" 


Mi-' 


the  foregoer  ;  and  just  when  a  steady  pace  is  attained,  and 
peace  seems  to  have  returned  to  the  train,  he  suddenly  coun- 
termarches in  the  harness,  and  prostrates  the  unoffending 
steerdog  at  his  post.  The  attack,  too,  is  made  with  so  much 
suddenness  and  vigor  that  the  wondering  victim  — who  is 
perfectly  contented  with  the  change,  having  thereby  won  the 
easiest  place  in  the  train — instantly  capitulates,  and  **  turns 
a  turtle  "  in  his  traces.  The  trouble  might  end  here  but 
for  the  fact  that  the  unlooked-for  assault  is  generally  accom- 
panied by  a  flank  movement  on  the  part  of  the  two  middle 
dogs,  who,  when  there  is  any  fighting  lying  around,  are  pretty 
sure  to  have  a  tooth  in  on  their  own  account.  And  having 
no  particular  grudge  to  la^e  out,  but  only  mad  on  general 
principles,  they  are  equally  indifferent  in  attacking  the  head 
of  the  rear  dog  or  the  tail  of  the  one  in  front.  This  condition 
of  things  naturally  leads  to  fearful  confusion  in  the  train  ; 
they  jump  on  one  another  ;  they  tangle  their  traces,  and 
back-bands,  and  collar-straps,  into  inextricable  knots  and 
interfacings,  which  baffle  the  stiffened  fingers  of  the  angry 
traveler  to  unravel.  Frequently  they  roll  themselves  into 
one  huge  ball,  presenting  the  appearance  of  a  hydra-headed 
dog,  with  multitudinous  legs  and  innumerable  tails.  The 
rapid  application  of  the  whip  only  seems  to  make  matters 
worse — conveying  the  idea  to  each  infuriated  dog  that  he 
is  being  badly  bitten  by  an  unknown  antagonist.  The  trav- 
eler, having  tried  everything  else,  and  with  patience  entirely 
gone,  at  last  in  sheer  despair,  but  unwittingly,  follows  the 
example  of  the  poet  of  Perth,  who  "  stoode  in  ta  middle  of 


f  if. 


WINTER    TRAVEL. 


235 


ta  roade  and  swoore  at  lairge  ;  "  having  a  faint  idea,  neverthe- 
less, that  he  is  in  no  way  capable  of  doing  justice  to  the 
subject.  The  effect,  however,  is  magical  ;  the  confused  train 
straightens  out  under  illimitable  imprecation,  with  a  celerity 
clearly  illustrating  the  manner  of  its  early  training.  As  for 
the  bewildered  traveler,  he  has  unwittingly  discovered  the 
true  secret  of  dog-driving. 

By  the  time  the  mistake  is  rectified,  however,  and  the  dogs 
are  tugging  at  their  moose-skin  collars  in  peaceful  equanimity, 
the  traveler's  half-breed  companions  have  disappeared  in  the 
distance.  Extreme  cold  has  a  tendency  to  make  men  un- 
social ;  in  a  fight  with  the  elements,  it  is  each  man  for  him- 
self ;  and  the  traveler  knows  he  will  be  left  alone  until  the 
camping-place  is  reached — possibly  till  night. 

Traveling  thus  day  after  day  through  the  intense  stillness 
and  solitude  of  the  snow-clad  plain,  without  meeting  a  sign 
of  man,  and  rarely  seeing  a  living  creature,  strikes  strangely 
upon  the  mind  at  first.  The  half  breed  or  Indian  delights  in 
wandering  alone  ;  but  the  traveler  who  first  tries  the  experi- 
ment, finds  the  silence  and  loneliness  so  oppressive  as  to  be 
unbearable.  He  often  journeys  over  a  space  where  no  tree 
or  shrub  breaks  the  monotony  of  the  sky-line  ;  only  the  un- 
ending vision  of  snow  and  sTcy,  the  vague,  distant,  and  ever- 
shifting  horizon  ;  the  long  snow-ridges  that  seem  to  be  rolled 
one  upon  another  in  motionless  torpor,  or,  in  a  storm,  moving 
like  the  long  swells  of  the  ocean  ;  the  weird  effect  of  sunrise 
and  sunset,  of  night  limiting  the  vision  to  almost  nothing,  and 
clothing  even  that  in  a  spectral,  opaque  grey;  of  morning  slowly 


'  I 


t 


236 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


expanding  it  to  a  hopeless,  shapeless  blank  ;  the  sigh  and 
sough  of  the  ceaseless  wind,  that  seems  an  echo  in  unison 
with  the  immeasurable  solitude  of  which  it  is  the  sole  voice  ; 
and,  over  all,  the  constantly  growing  sense  of  lonely,  never- 
ending  distance,  which  deepens  upon  the  traveler  as  morning 
after  morning  dawns  upon  his  onward  progress  under  the 
same  fantastic,  ever-shifting  horizon  of  snow  and  sky. 

All  this  becomes  doubly  intensified  to  the  traveler  left 
alone  to  shape  his  course  for  the  day.  But  the  reality  of  the 
storm,  drift,  and  desolation,  has  the  excitement  of  the  very 
pain  which  they  produce.  To  be  lost  in  the  blinding  haze 
of  a  **  poudre  day  ;  "  to  have  a  spur  of  icy  keenness  urging 
him  on  to  renewed  effort  ;  to  have  the  dead  weight  of  that 
dread  inertia,  which  always  accompanies  the  traveler  on 
northern  plains,  keeping  him  down  with  an  iron  grasp  ;  to 
have  Despair  constantly  suggesting  the  futility  of  further  ex- 
ertion ;  to  seek  with  dazed  eyes  and  sickening  fears,  hour 
after  hour,  for  the  faint  print  of  snowshoe  or  moccasin  upon 
the  snow  ;  to  see  night  approaching,  and  not  a  thing  of  life 
or  shape  of  shelter  within  the  scope  of  vision  ;  to  urge  the 
tired  dogs  with  whip  and  voice  to  fresh  exertions,  to  greater 
effort  in  gaining  some  far-off  aspen  bluff,  or  willow  copse, 
ere  night  shall  wrap  the  dreary  scene  in  darkness  ;  all  this  is 
but  the  reiterated  recital  of  the  traveler's  daily  misery. 

In  the  face  of  a  cold,  the  intensity  of  which  it  is  difficult 
to  imagine,  he  must  keep  on.  Right  in  his  teeth  blows  the 
bitter  blast  ;  the  dogs,  with  low-bent  heads,  often  face  about 
in  the  traces,  and  can  only  be  induced  to  proceed  by  repeated 


'%*    ■;■* 


WINTER    TRAVEL. 


237 


thrashings  ;  the  haJf-breeds,  with  blankets  wrapped  tightly 
over  their  heads,  bend  forward  as  they  walk  against  the  wind. 
To  run  is  instantly  to  freeze  ;  to  lie  upon  the  sledge,  even  for 
a  moment,  is  to  chill  the  body  through  to  the  very  marrow. 
Under  these  circumstances,  the  traveler  is  apt  to  wonder  if 
the  game  is  worth  the  candle.  He  compares  himself  with  all 
the  other  adventurers  who  have  gone  on  fool's  errands  since 
the  world  began,  and  finds  the  result  very  much  to  his  own 
disadvantage.     Like  Touchstone^  he  is  sorry  he  came. 

**  Ros.  Well,  this  is  the  Forest  of  Arden. 

Touch.  Ay,  now  am  I  in  Arden  ;  the  more  fool  I  ;  when  I 
was  at  home,  I  was  in  a  better  place  ;  but  travelers  must  be 
content." 

Small  wonder  when,  after  such  a  day  of  toil  and  hardship, 
the  traveler  sees  through  the  gloom  the  haven  he  so  long  has 
sought — it  may  be  only  the  camp-fire  in  the  aspen-clump,  or 
the  dull  glow  of  a  chip-fire  in  a  snow-drift — he  hails  with  in- 
tense joy  the  gleam  which  tells  him  of  a  resting-place.  And 
yet,  as  he  stretches  his  weary  limbs  in  the  snow,  or  on  the  soft 
broom,  he  laughs  at  the  fatigues  and  fears  which,  one  short 
hour  before,  were  heart-sickening  enough.     Yet  so  it  is. 

When  the  light  begins  to  fade  over  the  silent  plain,  and 
the  greyish,  opaque  pall  settles  slowly  down  upon  the  frozen 
landscape,  the  traveler  looks  about  him  for  a  good  camping- 
place.  A  poplar  thicket,  or  a  pine  bluff,  supplies  all  his  re- 
quirements— a  few  dead  trees  for  fuel,  a  level  space  for  his 
fire  and  his  blankets,  and  broom  for  his  bed.  Every  one  sets 
to  work  as  quickly  as  possible.     One  unharnesses  the  dogs 


l-  ■t 


.U'.i 


I'X'^?'- 


M 


f.m 


^;ii 


--4+ 


238 


T//E  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


and  unpacks  the  sledges  ;  another  collects  dry  logs  ;  a  third 
cuts  pine  chips  and  starts  the  fire  ;  while  a  fourth  shovels 
away  the  snow  in  front  of  the  fire  with  a  snowshoe,  and 
strews  the  cleared  ground  with  the  pinebroom.  Then  all 
squat  down,  smoking  and  superintending  the  cooking  of  sup- 
per, the  hungry  dogs  seated  around  anxiously  waiting  for  their 
share. 

A  pipe  and  smoke  follow,  then  the  blankets  and  robes  are 
spread  out  for  the  bed.  The  operation  of  undressing  is  re- 
versed, and  the  traveler  literally  dresses  for  the  night  ;  cover- 
ing head  and  all,  and  placing  his  feet  as  near  the  fire  as 
he  dares.  All  huddle  together  as  closely  as  possible,  and 
when  silence  reigns,  the  dogs  creep  softly  in  toward  the  fire 
and  lie  at  the  sleepers'  feet.  Then  begins  the  cold.  The 
mercury  in  the  thermometer  placed  at  the  bedside  sinks 
down — down,  till  it  disappears  in  the  bulb,  and  may  be  used 
as  a  bullet.  The  traveler  is  tired  with  his  forty-mile  march 
on  snowshoes.  Lying  down  with  blistered  feet  and  stiffened 
limbs,  sleep  comes  to  him  by  the  sheer  force  of  fatigue  ;  but 
the  dim  consciousness  of  that  frightful  cold  never  for  an 
instant  leaves  his  waking  brain  ;  and,  as  he  lies  in  a  huddled 
heap  beneath  his  robes,  he  welcomes  the  short-haired,  shiver- 
ing dog,  who,  forced  from  his  cold  lair  in  the  snow,  seeks 
warmth  on  the  outside  of  his  master's  blankets. 

Strange  as  it  may  appear  to  those  who,  living  in  warm 
houses  and  sleeping  in  cosy  rooms  from  which  all  draughts 
are  zealously  excluded,  deem  taking  one's  rest  in  a  poplar 
thicket,  at  such  a  temperature,  next  to  an  impossibility,  it  is 


•T'iji, 


WINTER   TRAVEL. 


239 


quite  the  reverse.  The  men  who  brave  such  dangers  are 
made  of  sterner  stuff,  and  do  not  perish  so  easily.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  frequently  occurs  that  when,  before  dawn, 
the  fire  again  glows  ruddily,  and  the  cup  of  tea  is  drank 
hot  and  strong,  the  whole  discomfort  of  the  night  is  forgotten 
— forgotten,  perhaps,  in  the  dread  anticipation  of  a  cold  still 
more  trying  in  the  day's  journey  to  come. 

Day  after  day  the  same  routine  of  travel  is  pursued.  To 
rise  at  three  o'clock  of  the  bitterly  cold  mornings,  to  start 
at  four,  and  plod  on  till  dark,  halting  twice  for  an  hour 
during  the  day,  is  the  dull  history  of  each  day's  toil.  No 
literary  skill  is  able  to  enliven  the  dreary  monotony  of  the 
journey.  In  front  goes  a  train  of  dogs,  floundering  along 
in  the  deep  snow  ;  then  the  other  trains  wind  along  upon 
a  firmer  footing.  As  the  day  wanes,  the  dogs  begin  to  tire, 
but  still  go  on  as  gamely  as  ever.  At  sundown  the  trains 
have  straggled  widely  apart,  the  weaker  ones  dropping  far  to 
the  rear.  The  dogs  begin  to  look  wistfully  back  at  the  driver 
running  behind  the  sledge,  who,  "  filled  with  strange  oaths," 
only  responds  to  their  pathetic  appeals  with  fiercer  impreca- 
tions. Dogs  and  men  seem  to  go  forward  from  the  mere 
impulse  of  progression.  All  have  been  tired  long  since  ;  not 
partially  so,  but  regularly  weary ;  yet,  somehow,  the  sense 
of  weariness  seems  to  have  passed  away ;  the  step  forward 
upon  the  snowshoe  is  taken  by  a  mere  mechanical  effort, 
destitute  alike  of  sense  or  feeling.  Where  all  is  a  wilderness, 
progression  means  preservation  ;  and  sick  or  sore,  weary  and 
blistered,  the  traveler  must  push  on. 


m  .1 
lilp 


r\ 


CHAPTER  XI. 


THE    FUR    HUNTER. 


'nr*HE  most  expert  hunters  and  trappers  of  fine  furs  in  the 


1 


Hudson's  Bay  Territory  are  the  Wood-Indians — Crees, 


Beavers,  and  others — and  from  them  are  traded  the  greater 
portion  of  the  peltries  exported  by  the  company.     They  are 
of  different  hauits  and  dispositions  from  their  relatives,  the 
Plain-Indians — a  sort  of  solitary  hunters  and  trappers  on  foot, 
contrasted  with  a  race   of  gregarious   horsemen.     Generally 
very  peaceable,  they  pride  themselves  upon  an  honesty  un- 
known to  their  lawless  brethren  of  the  prairies  ;  and  although 
great  beggars,  and  inclined  to  importune  one  to  give  them 
different  things  to  which  they   may  take  a  fancy,  yet  they 
never  offer  to  dispute  one's    right    of    ownership.     Expert 
hunters  of  moose,  and  occasionally  seeking  the  buffalo,  when 
they  enter  the  skirts  of  the  timber  in  winter,  yet  they  confine 
their  labors  in  the  main  to  trapping  the  smaller  furs.     As  a 
consequence,  they  are  better  clothed   and    equipped    than 
the  Plain-Indians,  being  able  to  obtain  what  they    require 
at  the  trading-posts  in  exchange  for    furs.     On    the    other 
hand,  they  often  suffer  severely  from  starvation,  owing  to 
the  increasing  scarcity  of  the  larger  animals  ;  while  the  Plain- 
Indians,  following  the  buffalo,  seldom  lack  food,   although 


THE  FUR  HUNTER. 


241 


s  in  the 
— Crees, 
greater 
hey  are 
Ives,  the 
on  foot, 
renerally 
isty  un- 
ilthough 
ve  them 
yet  they 
Expert 
o,  when 
confine 
s.     As  a 
ed    than 
require 
^e    other 
swing  to 
he  Plain- 
although 


they  possess  but  little  marketable  property  wherewith  to 
buy  clothes  and  luxuries  at  the  forts. 

Upon  the  arrival  of  the  summer  and  autumn  boat-brig- 
ades at  the  different  posts  throughout  the  Fur  Land,  bring- 
ing supplies  of  merchandise  for  the  trade  of  the  ensuing  year, 
it  is  the  custom  of  the  company  to  issue  to  their  hunters  and 
trappers  goods  up  to  a  certain  amount,  to  be  returned  in  furs 
at  the  end  of  the  season.  These  advances  are  generally  all 
made  by  the  month  of  November,  so  that  the  hunters  may  be 
in  readiness  for  the  season's  work. 

The  different  methods  by  which  the  Indian  succeeds 
in  snaring  and  trapping  animals  are  many,  l^iit  as  by  far 
the  most  numerous  of  the  more  valuable  of  the  fur-bear- 
ing animals  of  the  territory  are  the  marten  and  mink,  to  the 
capture  of  the  former  of  these  two — the  sable  of  the  trade — 
the  exertions  of  the  trappers  are  principally  directed.  By  the 
beginning  of  November  the  animals  have  got  their  winter 
coats,  and  fur  is  in  season,  or  "prime,"  as  the  phrase  is ;  and 
the  Indian  trapper,  who  has  taken  up  his  residence  in  some 
favorite  locality,  now  prepares  to  lay  out  his  trapping-walk. 
As  he  has  a  long  tramp  before  him,  and  the  temperature  is 
below  zero,  he  attires  himself  in  the  winter  costume  of  the 
trapper :  a  large  deer-skin  or  duffel  capote,  very  much  over- 
lapped in  front,  and  fastened  about  his  waist  by  a  brilliant 
ted  sash,  protects  his  body  from  the  cold  ;  a  small  rat  or 
fox-skin  cap  covers  his  head,  while  his  legs  are  encased  in 
th        dinary  blue-cloth  leggin  ;  large  moccasins,  with  two  or 

three  pairs  of  duffel  socks — simple  squares  of  blanket  cloth — 

11 


•nr^ 


f 


34i 


ntK  (iKr.A  r  FttK  r.A,v/), 


rlotho  luH  lool ;  i\\u\  hiigi'  i\\in;>ii\i'a,  rMi'iulin^  to  llic  rlliow, 
con<pUMo  his  conhinu'.  Inio  his  lioll  \\v  iIuiihIh  h  niiitUI  hxp 
orlmlr'nii.  v>lrl.  li  sefVCR  ;5:;  a  habnco  to  llio  l\ii|JiO  Inmling- 
knilo  ami  lirc-liaii,  lirtugihg  iVom  l]u«  olhor  Rithv  1 1  in  piu  k  i» 
proparod  in  the  ToMowing  luannor : 

In  tho  miihll.'  of  his  blankol  ho  pIm'OH  n.  plcoc  of  prnnni 
can,  snnitiont  for  live  tir  xiv  days'  ronsnniplion  :  as  nnu  h  [ca 
M  he  crtu  get  ;  a  (in  kettle  and  i  \ip  ;  and,  if  he  he  rich,  some 
steel  traps,  an«l  a  httU*  sn^ar  and  salt.  A  ^nn  ami  annnnni- 
tiot\  eoniplele  his  onttit.  Douhlitig  Ihr  himdvet  over  all,  he 
ties  it  down  npi>n  a  sn>all  hand-sledge,  or  tol>ogan.  Thin 
hand-sledgi*  is  a  thin  llat  slip  of  wood,  froni  live  to  sis  feet 
K>ng  by  vme  l>t\)ad,  at\d  Inrned  np  at  the  oi\d  in  a  ronsider- 
able  eurl.  It  is  very  light,  an-l  the  Indians  always  use  it 
\vhen  laying  ont  their  walks,  or  in  visiting  their  traps,  fi)r  Ihc 
purpose  of  earrying  their  provisions  and  hauling  home  the 
rti\imal..  or  game  they  may  have  eanghl.  ryii\g  on  a  pair  of 
snowshoes,  he  throws  the  line  of  the  hand-sledge  over  his 
shoulder,  and  starts  alone  into  the  gloomy  forest. 

A  sky  of  darkness  is  above,  bleak  wiUls  and  frozen  lakes 
before  him  ;  the  reeesses  of  the  forest,  the  icy  margins  of 
the  lakes  must  be  traversed,  for  there  are  the  haunts  of  the 
s;\ble.  Silently  forward  he  trudges  ;  for  the  trapper  ean  never 
enliven  ihe  solitude  of  his  journey  by  whistling  or  a  song. 
The  cold  is  below  xero,  but  the  fur  will  prove  all  the  finer. 
Nerved  by  necessity,  and  stimulated  by  the  love  of  gain,  on 
he  presses,  Fatigvte  and  eold  exhaust  him  ;  a  snow-storm 
overtakes  him  ;  the  bearings  and  landmarks  are  obliterated 


i'p 


olbow, 
m\\  rtxd 

\n\vV.  IH 


pern 


ml- 


munuini' 
n  nil.  lu' 
i\».     'riiiM 
i>  Htx  feet 
1  oiisitloi- 
yH  uso  il 
s,  for  ll»o 
uMUC  ibo 
;»  \i;\ir  of 
over  his 


\;\ 


/on  lakes 
ruins  of 
Is  of  the 
an  never 
Y  a  song, 
the  finer, 
f   gain,  on 
in)W-storm 
obliterated 


77/A  /'7//.'  //f/A"/7r./f. 


Hi 


nixl  lotgolten  ;  HoinoliineH   pioviHiont    fiiil,  .iimI    he   wlio    Idih 
protTiiRftl  II  Bpeedy  rrliirti  is  nrvu  no  iii'irr. 

The  lrii|i|i('r,  he  In-  while  iMtin  or  Itidiaii,  (»l  nc»  csHity  leads 
n  Bolhnry,  ch'sohlle,  iitid  diiligci'iiHi  lilc  To  he  (done  in  llic 
trackieRH  foreHi  deiiiainh  n  (uiirn^e  an<l  ftidKraiire  of  no 
ordhinry  khid.  'I'lu;  lone  trapper  knowH  not  iIm;  etriidatiori, 
the  wild  dasli  mid  liiiir.di  rif  iJir  4oldi('r,  a«  lie  inarelies  n)»  Ut 
the  deadly  hreai  h  ;  he  eaniud  (eel  tlmt  powerful  Iik  enlivc  to 
be  hrnve  iiriHJng  from  I  lie  kuowledj<«;  that  a  j^/dlant  i\i-r(\  will 
he  handed  down,  with  this  name,  to  poscrity  ;  Ih-  Ii;ih  no 
oppf»rtunil.y  for  diHplay  hehjrc  h'\n  fellows;  alone  wit'.  i(;iliire 
and  his  (Irealor,  he  in  Kelf-dependent,  and  hin  indornitahle 
rouranc  «an  only  Bpring  fr»»m  a  nrrri  rclianfc  on  his  own 
utrcnglh. 

As  he  |)enctratcH  Ihc  forest,  hin  keen  eyes  »(.an  every  mark 
upon  the  snow  for  the  trax  k»  he  »cck»,  llir  perecptions  (;f  the 
Indian  or  halfd)reed  arc  so  nice,  liiH  attention  80  constantly 
on  the  aleii,  and  his  (  (Mk  hisions  so  rapidly  formed,  that  he 
draws  inferences  from  general  signs  with  great  rearlincss  and 
accuracy.  As  a.  consc(pjen«^c,  he  reads  signs  left  behind  by 
a  passing  animal  as  readily  and  truly  as  if  he  had  been  per- 
sonally prcHcnt  and  witnessed  the  whole  Sf;ene,  It  matters 
little  whether  tliey  are  fresh  or  half  obliterated  ;  he  never 
makes  a  mistake  in  his  perusal  of  the  langutitfc  of  tracks — 
marks  left  printed  in  that  book  the  hunter  knows  so  well — 
the  face  of  Nature.  When  he  observes  the  footprints  of 
marten  or  fisher,  he  unstraps  his  pack,  and  sets  to  work  to 
construct  r  wooden  trap  in  the  following  manner : 


MB.i  rii 


244 


T//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


I'll 


Having  cut  down  a  number  of  saplings,  he  shapes  them 
into  stakes  of  about  a  yard  in  length.  These  are  driven  into 
the  ground  so  as  to  form  a  small  circular  palisade  or  fence, 
in  the  shape  of  half  an  oval,  cut  transversely.  Across  the 
entrance  to  this  little  enclosure,  which  is  of  a  length  to  admit 
about  two-thirds  of  the  animal's  body,  and  too  narrow  to  per- 
mit it  to  fairly  enter  in  and  turn  around,  a  thick  limb  or  thin 
tree-trunk  is  laid,  with  one  end  resting  on  the  ground.  A 
tree  of  considerable  size  is  next  felled,  stripped  of  its  branches, 
and  so  laid  that  it  rests  upon  the  log  at  the  entrance  in  a 
parallel  direction.  Inside  the  circle  a  small  forked  stick 
holds  a  bit  of  dried  meat,  or  a  piece  of  partridge  or  squirrel, 
as  a  bait.  This  is  projected  horizontally  into  the  enclosure, 
and  on  the  outer  end  of  it  rests  another  short  stick,  placed 
perpendicularly,  which  supports  the  large  tree  laid  across  the 
entrance.  The  top  of  the  trap  is  then  covered  over  with  bark 
and  branches,  so  that  the  only  means  of  access  to  the  bait 
is  by  the  opening  between  the  propped-up  tree  and  the  log 
beneath.     It  is  a  guillotine  with  a  tree  instead  of  a  knife. 

The  marten  or  fisher  creeps  under  the  tree  and  seizes  the 
bait.  Finding  himself  unable  to  pull  it  off,  he  backs  out,  still 
tugging  at  the  forked  tick  to  which  the  bait  is  attached. 
Just  as  the  centre  of  his  back  comes  under  the  fall  or  tree,  he 
loosens  the  baited  stick,  which  lets  slip  the  small  supporting 
one,  which  in  turn  lets  fall  the  large  horizontal  log.  Down  it 
comes  on  his  back,  killing  him  instantly,  but  doing  no  injury 
to  the  fur.  Wherever  marten  tracks  are  plentiful  in  the 
snow,  a  deadfall  is  erected  ;  an  expert  trapper  being  able  to 


THE  FUR  HUNTER, 


245 


make  forty  or  fifty  of  them  in  a  day.  These  he  scatters  over 
a  long  line  of  country,  it  may  be  ten  or  fifteen  miles  in  length. 
Once  a  week  he  starts  forth  to  visit  this  line  of  deadfalls, 
gathering  the  furs  taken,  repairing  the  broken  traps  and  setting 
them  again. 

The  numerous  lakes  and  swamps  in  the  forest  are  always 
sought  by  the  trapper,  not  only  because  they  enable  him  to 
travel  more  rapidly,  and  penetrate  further  into  the  less  hunted 
regions,  but  also  because  the  edges  of  the  lakes  and  the  por- 
tages between  them  are  the  favorite  haunts  of  the  fox,  the 
fisher,  and  the  mink.  Where  the  lakes  are  shallow,  the  water 
apparently  freezes  to  the  bottom,  except  in  the  deepest  parts, 
where  air  or  breathing  holes  exist  in  the  ice.  The  water  in 
these  holes  is  crowded  with  myriads  of  fish,  most  of  them  of 
small  size,  but  so  closely  packed  that  they  cannot  move  freely. 
On  thrusting  in  an  arm,  it  seems  like  plunginp^  it  into  a  mass  of 
thick  mud.  The  snow  in  the  vicinity  is  beaten  down  as  hard 
and  level  as  a  road,  by  the  numbers  of  animals  which  flock  to 
these  Lenten  feasts.  Tracks  converge  from  every  side  ;  here 
the  footprints  of  the  cross  and  silver-fox,  delicately  impressed 
in  the  snow  as  he  trots  daintily  along  with  light  and  airy 
tread  ;  the  rough  marks  of  the  clumsier  fisher ;  the  clear, 
sharply-defined  track  of  the  active 
mink ;  and  the  great  coarse  trail  of 
the  ubiquitous,  ever-galloping  wol- 
verine. Around  the  margins  of  these  steel  traps. 
lakes  the  trapper  erects  his  deadfalls,  certain  of  securing  an 
abundant  harvest. 


» 


■s 

I 

1 

A- 


;v  .p 


nil 


246 


T//E  GRF.A  T  FUR  LAXD. 


~-H:- 


Beavers,  wolves,  foxes,  lynx,  and  the  other  larger  animals, 
are  generrlly  caught  by  the  steel  trap.     These  traps  resemble 
the  ordinary  rat-trap,  except  that  they  are  larger,  have  no 
teeth,  and   the  springs  are  double.     Those  used  for  wolves 
and  lynx,  i  "specially,  are  of  very  large  size,  and  the  springs  are 
so  powerful  that  it  requires  all  the  force  of  a  strong  man  to 
set  them.     A  chain  is  attached  to  one  spring,  with  a  ring  at 
the  free  extremity,  through  which  a  stout  stake  is  passed,  or  a 
weight  fastened,  and  left  otherwise  unattached.     When  the 
animal  is  caught,  he  carries  the  trap  for  a  short  distance,  but 
is  soon  brought  up  by  the  stake  or  weight  becoming  entangled 
across  the  trees  or  fallen  timbers.     The  track  in  the  snow 
soon  leads  to  his  discovery  by  the  hunter.     In  setting  the 
trap,  it  is  generally  placed  so  that  the  jaws,  when  spread  out 
flat,  are  exactly  on  a  level  with  the  snow  :  the   chain  and 
stake    both    being  carefully    hidden,    and  a    thin   layer  of 
snow    carefully   sprinkled    over  the  f'p  of    the  trap    itself. 
Fragments  of  meat  are  then  scattered  about,  and  the  place 
smoothed  down  so  as  to  leave  no  trace.     The  fox  or  wolf, 
feeding  about,  generally  gets  one  leg  in  the  trap,  sometimes 
both  legs  at  once,   and  occasionally    the  nose.      The   trap- 
per prefers  catching  the  animal  by  two  legs  if  possible,  as 
then  there  is  not  the  slightest  possibility  of  escape  ;  whereas, 
the  fox  caught  by  one  leg,  often  eats  it  off  close  to  the  trap 
and  escapes  on  the  other  three.     The  stump  soon  heals  up 
again,  and  becomes  covered  with  hair.     When  caught  by  the 
nose,  they  are  almost  certain  to  escape,  owing  to  its  wedge- 
like  shape,  unless   taken    out  of  the  trap  very  soon  after 


THE  FUR  If  UN  TEH. 


247 


being  caught.  The  wolf  is  the  most  difficult  animal  to  catch 
in  the  steel  trap,  being  so  sagacious  that  he  will  scrape 
all  round  one,  let  it  be  ever  so  well  set,  find  after  eating  all 
the  bait,  walk  away  unhurt.  The  hunter  catches  them,  how- 
ever, by  setting  two  traps  close  together,  so  that,  when  the 
wolf  scrapes  at  one,  he  is  almost  certain  to  get  his  foot  in  the 
other. 

In  the  remoter  districts  many  of  the  larger  fur-bearing 
animals  are  caught  by  means  of  the  poisoned  bait.  These 
are  simply  small  pieces  of  meat  into  the  centre  of  which 
strychnine  has  been  inserted  by  means  of  a  small  hole.  When 
frozen  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish  any  difference  in  appear- 
ance between  them  and  the  harmless  ones.  The  baits  are 
purposely  made  very  small,  so  that,  in  the  ordinary  course, 
they  will  be  bolted  whole,  and  are  scattered  along  the  paths 
traversed  by  the  animals.  Poison  is  rarely  used,  however,  in 
the  vicinity  of  settlements,  owing  to  the  danger  of  destroying 
valuable  train-dogs,  or  upon  the  open  prairie,  where  it  is 
liable  to  poison  the  grasses,  and  so  become  dangerous  tc 
horses  and  cattle.  Wire  and  twine  nets  are  also  frequently 
used  in  trapping  furs,  though  principally  directed  against  the 
lynx,  or  wild  cat. 

Though  well  nigh  extinct  in  many  parts  of  the  Fur  Land, 
yet  in  others  the  beaver  has  held  his  own  against  all  comers. 
Nearly  thirty  thousand  of  these  little  builders  are  annually 
caught  along  the  shores  and  swampy  shallows  of  Peace  River, 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that  they  are  a  very  difficult  animal 
to  trap.      A  shallow  lake  is  their  favorite  place  of  abode. 


H 


248 


THE  CREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


Along  its  edges,  where  rushes  and  sedgy  plants  appear  above 
the  ice  and  snow,  rise  a  number  of  small  earthy  mounds, 
while  around  it  the  trees  are  felled  in  all  directions,  as  if  the 
land  had  been  cleared  for  farming.  This  is  a  beaver  colony. 
In  summer  and  autumn  the  spot  is  a  lively  place  enough,  but 
in  winter  there  are  no  signs  of  animal  life,  the  beaver  keeping 
within  doors. 

Arrived  upon  the  ground,  the  trapper  knows  at  a  glance 
the  various  signs  of  the  animal's  presence.  Cutting  down  a 
few  stakes,  he  proceeds  to  point  them  at  the  ends  ;  and  then 
breaking  the  ice  from  around  the  beaver-lodges,  he  drives 
them  between  it  and  the  shore.  This  prevents  the  beaver 
from  running  along  the  passage  which  they  always  keep  from 
their  lodges  to  the  shore,  where  their  storehouse  is  located, 
and  imprisons  those  now  in  the  lodge.  The  trapper  next 
stakes  up  those  in  the  storehouse  on  shore  in  the  same  man- 
ner, and  thus  imprisons  those  who  may  have  fled  there  for 
shelter,  on  hearing  the  sound  of  the  axe  at  the  lodge.  Then, 
taking  his  axe,  he  cuts  through  the  lodge  ;  no  very  easy  mat- 
ter, owing  to  the  vast  amount  of  frozen  sticks  and  mud  of 
which  it  is  constructed.  At  last,  laying  bare  the  interior  of  the 
structure,  he  reaches  in  his  hand,  gives  a  pull,  and  out  comes 
a  fat  sleepy  beaver,  which  he  flings  upon  the  snow.  A  blow 
upon  the  head  from  the  axe  puts  an  end  to  it,  and  the  opera- 
tion is  again  repeated,  until  all  the  inmates  are  killed  and 
packed  upon  the  hand-sledge.  For  the  Indian  gorges  on  fat 
ibcaver,  and  never  throws  away  the  meat. 

If  it  is  the  early  autumn,  however,  and  the  ice  has  not 


1' 


r%. 


THE  FUR  HUNTER. 


249 


yet  formtd  about  the  beaver-lodges,  the  hunter  catches  the 
animal  in  a  steel  trap.  He  first  finds  out  how  the  beaver  gets 
into  his  home,  which  is  generally  in  shallow  water.  Then  a 
steel  trap  is  sunk  in  the  water,  care  being  taken  to  regulate 
the  depth,  so  that  it  may  not  be  more  than  twelve  or  fourteen 
inches  below  the  surface.  This  is  accomplished  by  either 
rolling  in  a  log,  or  building  in  large  stones.  Immediately 
over  the  trap  is  the  bait,  made  from  the  castor  or  medicine 
gland  o'l  the  beaver,  suspended  from  a  stick,  so  as  to  just 
clear  the  water.  With  a  long  cord  and  a  buoy,  to  mark  the 
position  of  the  trap  when  the  beaver  swims  away  with  it,  the 
trap  is  complete.  The  unsuspecting  beaver,  returning  to  his 
lodge,  scents  the  ten^Aing  castor,  purposely  placed  in  his 
road.  As  he  cannot  reach  it  as  he  swims,  he  feels  about  with 
his  hind-legs  for  something  to  stand  on.  This,  too,  has  been 
carefully  placed  for  him.  Putting  down  his  feet  to  stretch 
up  for  the  coveted  morsel,  he  finds  them  suddenly  clasped  in 
an  iron  embrace  ;  there  is  no  hope  of  escape.  The  log,  re- 
vealing his  hiding-place,  is  seized  by  the  trapper,  the  im- 
prisoned beaver  dispatched  by  a  single  blow  on  the  head,  and 
the  trap  set  again,  A  trapper  will  sometimes  spend  many 
weeks  encamped  near  a  good  beaver  village. 

The  most  dire  and  untiring  enemy  of  the  fur-hunter  is 
the  wolverine,  or  North  American  Glutton — following  his 
footsteps,  and  destroying  the  martens  after  they  are  caught. 
This  curious  animal  is  rather  larger  than  the  badger,  with 
a  long  body,   stoutly  and  compactly   made,   mounted  on 

exceedingly  short  legs  of  great  strength.     His  feet,  large  and 
11* 


250 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


!■  ! 


\i  ;'ii: 


powerful,  are  armed  with  sharp,  curved  claws.  Voracious  and 
blood-thirsty,  there  hardly  lives  a  more  cunning  and  crafty 
animal.     During  the  winter  months  he  obtains  a  livelihood 
by  availing  himself  of  the  labors  of  the  trapper.     With  un- 
tiring perseverance  he  hunts  day  and  night  for  the  trail  of 
man,  and  when   it  is  found,  follows  it  unerringly,  until  he 
arrives  at  one  of   the  wooden   traps.     Avoiding  the  door, 
he  speedily  tears  open  an  entrance  at  the  back,  and  seizes  the 
bait  with  impunity.     If  the  trap  contains  an  animal,  he  drags 
it  out,  and,  with  wanton  malevolence,  tears  it  and  hides  it  in 
the  underbrush,  or  in  the  top  of  some  lofty  pine.     When  hard 
pressed  by  hunger,  he  occasionally  devours  it.     In  this  man- 
ner he  demolishes  a  whole  series  of  traps;  and  when  once 
a  wolverine  has  established  himself  on  a  trapping-walk,  the 
hunter's  only  chance  of  success  is  to  change  ground,  and 
build  a  fre'sh  lot  of  traps,  trusting  to  secure  a  few  fu;s  before 
his  new  path  is  found  out  by  his  industrious  enemy. 

Such  serious  injury  does  the  wolverine  inflict,  that  he  has 
received  from  the  Indians  the  name  of  Kekwaharkess,  or 
**  The  Evil  One."  Strange  stories  are  related  by  the  trappers 
of  the  extraordinary  cunning  of  this  animal,  which  they 
believe  to  possess  a  wisdom  almost  human.  He  is  never 
cauglit  by  the  ordinary  deadfall.  Occasionally  one  is 
poisoned,  or  caught  in  a  steel  trap ;  but  his  strength  is  so 
great  that  it  requires  a  strong  trap  to  hold  him.  He  seems 
even  to  suspect  the  poisoned  bait,  and  bites  in  two  and  tastes 
every  morsel  before  swallowing  it. 

Despite  the  hardships  and  fatigues  which  attend  it,  there 


THE  FUR  HUNTER. 


251 


is  something  strangely  attractive  in  the  trapper's  life.  The 
grand  beauty  of  the  forest  whose  pines,  some  of  which  tower 
up  over  two  hundred  feet  in  height,  are  decked  and  mantled 
in  snow,  and  where  no  sound  is  heard,  except  the  explosions 
of  trees  cracking  with  the  intense  frost,  excites  admiration 
and  stimulates  curiosity.  The  interest  in  the  pursuit  is 
constantly  kept  up,  by  the  observance  of  tracks,  the  inter- 
pretation of  their  varied  stories,  and  the  accounts  of  the  dif- 
ferent habits  of  the  animals  as  related  by  one's  wild  com- 
panions. There  is  also  no  small  amount  of  excitement  in 
visiting  the  traps  previously  made,  to  see  whether  they  contain 
the  looked-for  prize,  or  whether  all  the  fruits  of  hard  labor 
have  been  destroyed  by  the  vicious  wolverine.  But  on  the 
other  hand,  the  long  laborious  march,  loaded  with  a  heavy 
pack,  and  covered  with  a  quantity  of  thick  clothing,  through 
snow  and  woods  beset  with  fallen  timber  and  underbrush,  is 
fatiguing  enough.  Provisions  usually  fall  short,  and  the 
trapper  subsists,  in  a  great  measure,  on  the  animals  captured 
to  obtain  the  fur.  As  soon  as  the  skins  of  the  marten  and 
fisher  are  iv  moved,  their  bodies  are  stuck  on  the  end  of  a 
stick,  and  put  to  roast  before  the  fire,  looking  for  all  the 
world  like  so  many  skewered  cats.  The  only  change  in  the 
fatiguing  monotony  is  the  work  of  making  traps,  or  the  rest 
in  camp  at  night. 

Selecting  a  large  pine-tree  for  his  night  camp,  the  trapr>er 
scrapes  away  the  snow  from  about  its  roots  with  a  snowshoe. 
Clearing  a  space  seven  or  eight  feet  in  diameter,  and  nearly 
four  feet  deep,  he  cuts  the  pinebroom  from  the  ends  of  the 


^! 


252 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


branches  above  him,  and  strews  them  at  the  bottom  of  the 
hollow,  till  the  snow  is  covered.  This  done,  he  collects  a 
huge  pile  of  firewood  and  heaps  it  about  the  foot  of  the  tree. 
The  ruddy  flame  glances  up  among  the  branches  overhead, 
and  sends  a  myriad  of  sparks  into  the  air.  The  sombre  forest 
undergoes  a  sudden  and  magical  transformation.  Before,  it 
was  Cijld,  silent,  gloomy,  desolate,  and  the  pale  snow  looked 
spectral  in  the  dark.  Now,  the  thick  stems  of  the  trees  are 
bathed  in  a  genial  glow,  which  penetrates  the  branches  above, 
tinting  those  near  the  fire  witJi  a  ruby  tinge.  The  white  snow 
changes  to  a  beautiful  pink,  while  the  tree-trunks,  bright  and 
clearly  visible  close  at  hand,  become  more  and  more  indis- 
tinct in  the  distance,  till  they  are  lost  in  the  gloom.  The 
snow  walls  about  the  trapper  sparkle  as  if  set  with  diamonds. 
They  do  not  melt  as  might  be  expected ;  the  cold  is  too  in- 
tense for  that,  and  nothing  melts  except  the  snow  quite  close 
to  the  fire. 

Lying  on  a  soft  elastic  couch  of  pine  boughs,  at  his  feet  a 
roaring  fire  of  great  trees  heaped  high,  from  which  arises  an 
enormous  cloud  of  smoke  and  steam,  the  hunter,  wrapped  in 
his  blanket,  sleeps  in  peace.  Sometimes,  however,  when  the 
cold  is  very  intense,  or  the  wind  blows  strongly,  a  single 
blanket  is  poor  protection.  The  huge  fire  is  inadequate  to 
prevent  the  freezing  of  one  extremity,  while  it  scorches  the 
other.  Sleep  is  impossible,  or  if  obtained,  is  quickly  broken 
by  an  aching  cold  in  every  limb  as  the  fire  burns  low. 


»  a. 


A    WINTER  CAMP. 


253 


of  the 
Uects  a 
he  tree, 
/erheacl, 
re  forest 
;efore,  it 
'  looked 
rees  are 
:s  above, 
iite  snow 
right  and 
re  indis- 
m.     The 
iiamonds, 
is  too  in- 
uite  close 

his  feet  a 
arises  an 
rapped  in 
when  the 
a  single 
equate  to 
)rches  the 
y  broken 

V. 


!   ] 


f'M 


CHAPTER    XII. 


A    WINTER   CAMP. 


JOURNEYING  along  the  line  of  open  country  extend- 
ing between  the  North  Saskatchewan  River  and  the  great 
forest  region  stretching  out  toward  the  Polar  Sea,  in  company 
with  a  party  of  half-breed  plain-hunters,  we  reached,  one 
dreary  evening  in  November,  one  of  those  curious  communi- 
ties which  are  to  be  found  in  winter  only  along  the  borders  of 
the  great  plains  of  the  Fur  Land.  Nothing  like  them  exists 
on  the  plains  of  the  United  States  territories,  because  the 
peculiar  nomadic  population  necessary  to  their  being  is  lack- 
ing. On  the  south  side  of  the  forty-ninth  parallel  there  are 
comparatively  few  half-breeds;  on  the  north  side  there  are 
half-breeds  whose  great-grandfathers  were  half-breeds. 

Situated  in  the  sparse  timber  bordering  a  small  tributary 
of  the  Saskatchewan,  the  community  consisted  of  French 
half-breed  hunters  engaged  in  the  usual  winter  quest  of  buffalo. 
It  was  a  picturesque  though  not  over  cleanly  place,  and  will 
probably  look  better  in  a  photograph  than  it  did  in  reality. 
Some  thirty  or  forty  huts  crowded  irregularly  together,  and 
built  of  logs,  branches  of  pine-trees,  raw- hides,  and  tanned 
and  smoked  skins,  together  with  the  inevitable  fe/ee,  or  Indian 
lodge  ;  horses,  dogs,  women  and  children,  all  intermingled  in 


m^ 


A   WINTER  CAMP. 


255 


extend- 
:he  great 
:ompany 
hed,  one 
ommuni- 
orders  of 
em  exists 
;ause  the 
I  is  lack- 
there  are 
there  are 
Is. 

tributary 
French 
)f  buffalo, 
and  will 
1  reality, 
ther,  and 
d  tanned 
or  Indian 
iingled  in 


a  confusion  worthy  of  an  Irish  fair ;  half-brcud  hunters,  rib- 
boned, leggined,  tasseled  and  capoted,  lazy,  idle,  and,  if 
liquor  was  to  be  had,  sure  to  be  drunk  ;  remnants  and  wrecks 
of  buffaloes  lying  everywhere  around ;  here  a  white  and 
glistening  skull,  there  a  disjointed  vertebra  but  half  denuded 
of  its  flesh  ;  robes  stretched  upon  a  framework  of  poles  and 
drying  in  the  sun  ;  meat  piled  upon  stages  to  be  out  of  the 
way  of  dogs  ;  wolf-skins,  fox-skins,  and  other  smaller  furs, 
tacked  against  the  walls  of  the  huts,  or  stretched  upon  minia- 
ture frames  hanging  from  the  branches  of  trees  ;  dusky  women 
drawing  water  and  hewing  wood  ;  and  at  dark,  from  every 
little  hut,  the  glow  of  firelight  through  the  parchment  win- 
dows, the  sparks  glimmering  and  going  out  at  the  chimney- 
tops,  the  sound  of  violin  scraped  and  sawed  by  some  long- 
haired Paganini,  and  the  quick  thud  of  moccasined  heel,  as 
Baptiste,  or  Francois,  or  Pierrette  footed  it  ceaselessly  on  the 
puncheon-covered  floor. 

Inside  the  huts  a  bare  floor  of  pounded  earth,  or  halt- 
hewn  boards  ;  in  one  corner  a  narrow  bed  of  boughs,  covered 
deep  with  buffalo  robes;  a  fireplace  of  limited  dimensions,  a 
few  wooden  trunks  or  cassettes  ;  a  rude  table  and  a  few 
blackened  kettles  ;  on  the  walls  an  armory  of  guns,  powder- 
horns  and  bullet-bags ;  on  the  rafters  a  myriad  of  skins. 
Every  hut  was  the  temporary  home  of  several  families,  and 
we  have  slept  in  structures  of  this  kind,  of  not  more  than 
twelve  by  fifteen  feet  in  superficial  area,  where  the  families 
ranged  from  fifteen  to  twenty  members,  of  all  ages  and  both 
sexes.    It  might  be  useful  to  investigate  the  influence  of  this 


;  I 


Ul 


t .  Jl 


256 


THE  ORE  A  T  FUR  LAND. 


mode  of  life  upon  manners  ;  whatever  may  be  the  result  upon 
the  coarser  sex,  its  effect  upon  women  and  children  is  not  so 
lamentable  as  may  be  supp'^sed  ;  no  perceptible  lowering  of 
tone  or  compromising  of  taste  follows,  nor  does  the  nature  of 
young  girls,  thus  exposed  to  the  gaze  of  an  indiscriminate 
crowd,  change  as  much  as  might  be  expected  ;  the  hereditary 
sentiment,  "  honi  soit  qui  vial  y  pcnse,''  is  too  deeply  seated 
for  that. 

As  a  rule  the  winter  hunters  are  of  French  origin,  de- 
scendants of  the  old  traders  and  trappers  of  the  Northwest 
and  X.  Y.  Fur  Companies,  though  by  long  intermarriage 
the  blcod  of  three  or  four  nationalities  often  mingles  in  their 
veins.  Their  grandfathers  have  been  French-Canadian,  their 
grandmothers  Cree  or  Ojibway  squaws;  English  and  Black- 
feet  and  Assiniboine  have  contributed  to  their  descent  on  the 
mother's  side. 

Now,  as  in  the  olden  time  of  the  fur-trade,  there  is  no 
uniform  price  for  squaws,  their  qualifications  being  taken 
into  account,  and  a  price  demanded  in  accordance  with  their 
capacity  to  render  service.  Usually  one  may  be  purchased 
for  a  pony,  a  small  quantity  of  flour  and  sugar,  a  little 
tobacco  and  a  bottle  of  whisky.  But  woe  to  the  purchaser  if 
he  should  make  his  abode  at  any  point  convenient  of  access 
to  the  band  to  which  his  squaw  belonged.  While  she  is  with 
the  tribe  the  squaw  is  kicked  about  and  whipped  by  any  one 
that  takes  a  notion  to  do  so.  When  she  becomes  the  white 
man's  squaw  things  are  different.  There  is  not  an  Indian  she 
meets  who  does  not  claim  relationship  with  her.     She  is  sistei 


A   WINTER  CAMP. 


257 


■  1 

to  most  of  them  and  first  cousin  to  the  remainder.  They  meet 
her  with  a  kiss,  and  she  feels  that  she  must  ask  them  in  to  din- 
ner, and  give  each  one  something  to  remember  her  by.  The 
result  of  all  this  is,  that  the  white  man  soon  finds  that  he  has 
married  an  entire  Indian  tribe,  and  has  made  an  anii.-mortem 
distribution  of  his  property. 

Many  of  the  women  in  the  winter  camp  were  clearly  of 
unmixed  Indian  blood.  Their  general  occupation,  like  that 
of  all  tiic  married  women  in  the  camp,  when  not  enfTo.ged  in 
culinary  duties,  seemed  to  be  the  dissemination  of  ■  jurish- 
ment  from  the  maternal  font  to  swarms  of  children.  This 
maternal  occupation  among  the  half-breeds  is  protracted  to 
an  advanced  age  of  childhood,  a  circumstance  probably  due 
to  the  fact  that  for  four  days  after  its  birth  the  newly-born 
infant  receives  no  nourishment  from  its  mother,  in  order  that 
in  after  life  it  shall  be  able  to  withstand  the  pangs  of  hunger. 
The  infantile  mind,  doubtless  being  conscious  that  it  has 
been  robbed  of  its  just  right,  endeavors  to  make  up  for  lost 
time  by  this  prolongation  of  the  term  of  nursing.  In  a  simi- 
lar manner  the  half-breed  doubtless  obtains  his  appetite  for 
strong  drink  from  the  face  that  the  first  thing  administered 
to  him  after  birth  is  a  spoonful  of  strong  port  wine,  or  even 
spirits,  in  order  to  insure  '^'tt.  .•  vigorous  constitution  in 
after  life.  From  the  per^istorcj  with  which  he  follows  this 
practice  as  he  grows  oldei  i.  ir  only  fair  to  suppose  that  he 
is  insuring  himself  a  vigor  of  coustitution  which  will  carry 
him  i'^ito  the  nineties. 

Children,  however,  eat  freely  of  buffalo  or  other  meat. 
In  fact,  half-breed  and  Indian  life  know  only  two  seasons — 


258 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


the  feast  time  and  the  famine.  When  in  camp  in  the  neigh- 
borhood of  the  buffalo-herds,  or  other  game,  living  on  the 
fattest  hump  and  tongues,  the  moose  nose,  or  the  daintiest 
tidbit  of  forest  and  stream ;  when  on  the  march,  glad  to  get 
a  scrap  of  dried  meat  or  a  putrid  fish  to  appease  the  cravings 
of  hunger.  While  the  meat  lasts,  life  is  one  long  dinner.  A 
child  scarce  able  to  crawl  is  seen  with  one  hand  holding  a 
piece  of  meat,  the  other  end  of  which  is  tightly  held  between 
the  teeth,  while  the  right  hand  wields  a  knife  with  which  it 
saws  away  between  fingers  and  lips  till  the  mouthful  is  de- 
tached. We  have  never  seen  a  native  minus  his  nose,  but 
how  noses  escape  amputation  under  these  circumstances  is 
an  unexplained  myrtery. 

The  amount  oi  meat  consumed  in  a  winter  camp  is  sim- 
ply enormous.  In  every  hut  feasting  is  kept  up  from  morn- 
ing till  night,  and  it  is  impossible  to  enter  the  dwelling  of 
a  half-breed  without  being  invited  to  dine.  As  a  refusal  is 
regarded  in  the  light  of  an  intentional  slight  to  the  host,  it 
happens  that  the  unwary  guest  goes  about  in  a  highly  surfeited 
condition.  The  invitation  to  eat  forms,  however,  the  most 
prominent  feature  of  half-breed  hospitality,  and  is  always  ex- 
tended in  the  kindest  and  politest  manner.  If  spirits  are 
attainable,  the  feast  sometimes  occupies  a  secondary  position, 
but  in  one  form  or  the  other  the  stranger  within  the  gates  is 
invariably  invited  and  expected  to  participate.  With  the 
half-breeds  themselves  the  custom  is  invariable,  and  no  well- 
regulated  metis  expects  to  leave  his  neighbor's  door  without 
a  feast  of  the  best  viands  in  the  house.  And  a  feast  with 
this  hybrid  personage  means  no  small  draft  upon  the  larder, 
for,  if  the  half-breed  can  starve  better  than  any  other  man, 


A    WINTER  CAMP. 


259 


he  can  equally  surpass  other  men  in  the  quantity  of  food 
which  he  can  consume  at  a  sitting.  For  long  days  and 
nights  he  can  go  without  any  food  at  all ;  but  catch  him  in 
camp  when  the  buffalo  are  near  and  the  cows  are  fat,  and 
you  will  learn  what  a  half-breed  can  do  in  the  way  of  eating. 

Here  is  one  bill  of  fare,  as  given  by  a  traveler  in  the 
North,*  which  may  seem  incredible,  and  yet  we  can  vouch 
for  it  as  not  being  a  whit  exaggerated  :  "  Seven  men  in  thir- 
teen days  consumed  two  buffalo-bulls,  seven  cabri  deer,  fifty 
pounds  of  pemmican — equal  to  half  a  buffalo — and  a  great 
many  ducks  and  geese,  and  on  the  last  day  there  was  noth- 
ing to  eat.  This  enormous  quantity  of  meat  could  not  i\^,\Q 
weighed  less  than  sixteen  hundred  pounds  at  the  very  lowest 
estimate,  which  would  have  given  a  daily  ration  to  each  man 
of  eighteen  pounds!  "  Incredible  as  this  may  seem,  it  is  by 
no  me;  '  ^  ,>ipossible  in  a  severe  climate  and  living  the  active 
life  these  men  lead.  We  remember  camping  one  evening  with 
three  half-breed  plain-hunters  beside  a  buffalo-calf  they  had 
killed  shortly  before  dusk.  The  men  began  cutting  the  animal 
up  and  feasting  upon  it.  They  were  eating  when  we  retired  for 
the  night,  and  were  still  hovering  over  the  fire  when  we  arose 
early  in  the  morning.  With  the  exception  of  the  head, 
which  was  slowly  roasting  upon  the  coals,  there  was  nothing 
left  of  the  calf  except  the  bones ! 

As  an  instance  of  what  the  half-breed  regards  as  abstemi- 
ousness, a  certain  missionary  once  told  us  that  one  of  his 
people  came  to  him  one  day,  and  with  great  gravity  and  seri- 
ousness said  :  *'  I  know  that  Christianity  is  true ;  that  it  is 
*  Major  Butler,  "  Great  Lone  Land." 


s.  ■■ 

- 1 

■ 

1    ■:/! 


'«;■• 


26o 


r//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


the  great,  the  best  religion — much  better,  very  much  better 
than  the  pagan,  my  old  religion.  Now,"  said  he,  "  when  I 
was  a  pagan  and  followed  my  old  ways — the  religion  of  my 
mothers — I  could  eat  eight  rabbits  for  my  dinner  and  then 
was  not  satisfied.  But  since  \  have  become  a  Christian,  and 
follow  the  new  way,  six  rabbits  at  a  time  is  plenty  for  me  ;  I 
don't  want  any  more  !  " 

So  well  is  their  tremendous  power  of  digestion,  and  the 
real  necessities  of  their  nomadic  life,  known  to  the  Hudson's 
Bay  Company,  that  the  daily  ration  issued  by  that  corpora- 
tion to  its  half-breed  voyageurs  and  hunters  is  ten  pounds  of 
beef  per  man,  five  pounds  per  woman,  and  three  pounds  pei 
child,  regardless  of  age !  Beef  is  so  much  stronger  food 
than  buffalo-meat  that  ten  pounds  of  the  former  would  be 
equivalent  to  fifteen  pounds  of  the  latter,  and  so  on  in  pro- 
portion. Beef  is,  of  course,  only  used  near  the  settlements 
and  is  not  regarded  as  equal  in  any  respect  to  wild  meat. 
The  diet  of  the  company's  servants  depends  much,  however, 
upon  the  district  in  which  they  serve,  although  the  amount 
in  any  locality  is  equally  enorn.r  us.  In  the  plain  or  Sas- 
katchewan district  the  ration  is  almost  wholly  of  buffalo-meat, 
either  fresh  or  in  pemmican.  In  all  the  other  districts,  while 
,/emmican  is  issued  when  procurable,  the  regular  ration  is  the 
game  supplied  by  the  neighborhood.  On  the  south  shores 
of  Hudson's  Bay,  where  wild-fowl  abound,  each  man  re- 
ceives for  his  day's  food  .:ne  wild-goose;  in  the  lake  district 
or  English  River,  three  large  whitefish;  in  the  Arctic  region, 
two  fish  iii.d  five  pounds  of  reindeer-meat  ;  on  the  Pacific 


A    WINTER  CAMP. 


261 


coast,  eight  rabbits  or  one  salmon ;  in  the  Athabasca  dis- 
trict, eight  pounds  of  moose-meat.  All  this  in  periods  of 
plenty. 

When  the  meal  gets  low  in  the  bin,  and  the  oil  in  the 
cruse  fails,  the  half-breed  goes  hungry  with  an  indifference 
to  the  existence  of  gastric  juices  that  is  affecting  to  behold. 
But  no  amount  of  starvation  has  the  effect  of  making  him  re- 
serve from  present  plenty  for  future  scarcity.  The  idea  of 
saving  for  the  inevitable  rainy  morrow  is  entirely  foreign  to 
his  nature.  It  is  useless  to  tell  the  plain-hunters  that  the 
winter  is  long,  and  that  the  buffalo  might  move  out  of  range, 
and  want  stare  them  in  the  face ;  they  seem  to  regard  starva- 
tion as  an  ordinary  event  to  be  calculated  upon  certainly, 
and  that  so  long  as  any  food  is  to  be  obtained  it  is  to  be 
eaten  at  all  times  ;  when  that  is  gone — well,  then  the  only 
thing  is  to  do  without.  This  is  the  universal  half-breed  logic  : 
let  us  eat,  drink  and  be  merry,  lest  to-morrow  we  cannot ; 
and  it  is  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  simplicity  and  cunning, 
faith,  fun,  and  selfishness  which  are  mingled  in  the  half- 
breed's  mental  composition. 

As  a  consequence  of  ;,j  general  a  commingling  of  the 
sexes  in  the  many  huts  of  the  winter  camp,  it  occurs  that 
when  the  young  men  are  not  engaged  in  dancing  or  feasting 
they  are  usually  making  love;  and  as  there  is  a  large  number 
of  young  women  and  girls  in  every  camp,  each  family  rejoic- 
ing in  the  possession  of  several,  the  wooings  of  the  dusky  Pyr- 
amuses  and  tawny  Thisbes  is  going  on  continually,  and 
without  exciting  any  particular  comment.      Many  of  the 


,■  •■J\ 


262 


THE  CREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


women  are  very  handsome,  but  run  the  gamut  of  color  from 
a  clear  white  of  the  Caucasian  type  to  the  deep  and  dirty  cop- 
per-color of  the  Indian.  They  receive  the  attention  of  their 
lovers,  we  are  bound  to  say,  with  a  degree  of  propriety  and 
maiden  coyness  which  reflects  much  honor  upon  their  native 
modesty,  situated  as  they  are.  As  no  opportunity  is  offered 
for  retirement  or  privacy,  the  love-making  is  carried  on  in 
the  presence  of  all  the  other  occupants  of  the  room,  and  very 
frequently  each  corner  of  the  single  apartment  will  have  its 
couple  whispering  soft  nothings,  to  be  heard,  of  course,  by  all 
the  rest.  To  civilized  young  persons,  no  doubt,  a  courtship 
pursued  under  these  depressing  circumstances  would  be  try- 
ing to  the  utmost ;  but  Frangois  and  Philomel  are  not  in  the 
least  embarrassed  by  having  their  conversation  overheard, 
and  they  caress  each  other,  and  call  pet  names,  as  if  there 
were  no  ears  within  a  mile  of  them. 

Francois  or  Gabriel  generally  comes  early  in  the  evening, 
and  having  been  duly  embraced  and  handshaken  by  the  en- 
tire family,  is  at  Ciice  invited  to  dine.  The  fact  of  it  being 
past  the  dinner  hour  makes  no  difference,  as  the  invitation  is 
extended  in  accordance  with  hospitable  custom.  The  father 
of  Philomel  takes  his  seat  at  table  with  his  guest,  being  in 
duty  bound  to  eat  with  every  one  he  entertains,  and  the  fe- 
male members  of  the  family  wait  upon  them.  Both  proceed 
to  make  themselves  omnipresent  as  far  as  possible.  Their 
fingers  anc  everywhere,  and  ignoring  such  confining  influ- 
ences as  knives  and  forks,  they  soon  attain  an  enviable  state 
of  greasiness.     During  the  progrc.«!-  of  the  meal  the  host  is 


im 


A    WINTER  CAMP. 


263 


untiring  in  his  efforts  to  overload  his  guest  with  buffalo-hump 
and  tea.  He  informs  him  that  he  eats  no  more  than  a  spar- 
row ;  that  it  is  a  constant  mystery  to  him  how  he  is  able  to 
preserve  life  at  all  on  so  small  a  quantity  of  food  ;  that  he 
confidently  expects  him  to  become  a  saint  in  glory  ere  long, 
but  intends  doing  his  best  not  to  let  him  go  up  from  his  roof 
by  reason  of  starvation;  that  Philomel  has  an  appetite  some- 
thing like  his  own,  and  that  it  has  been  a  cause  of  anxiety  to 
him  all  her  life  long.  While  thus  commiserating  his  guest's 
poor  appetite,  man  pere  is  rapidly  and  bountifully  helping 
himself,  and  makes  amends  for  what  he  is  pleased  to  call  his 
visitor's  abstemiousness.  When  both  have  eaten  enough  to 
cause  immediate  surfeit,  and  the  father-in-law  in  prospect  is 
blue  in  the  face,  a  smoke  is  suggested. 

While  the  smoking  is  going  on  Philomel  deftly  sweeps 
from  the  table  the  remnants  of  the  repast,  and  retires  to  a 
corner  of  the  apartment  by  herself.  Here,  when  the  fumiga- 
tion is  over,  the  enamored  Gabriel  joins  her,  and  his  doing  so 
is  a  signal  for  the  rest  of  the  family  to  become  suddenly  un- 
conscious of  their  presence.  This  oblivion  does  duty  on 
such  occasions  for  a  separate  apartment.  Whatever  incidents 
of  a  tender  nature  occur  are  supposed  to  be  invisible  to  any 
person  save  the  principals.  Everybody  acts  on  this  theory. 
Even  the  respected  but  dissipated  host  produces  his  black 
bottle  with  the  hoarded  store  of  rum,  and  drinks  it  himself 
under  the  assumed  belief  that  his  young  guest  is  in  the  next 
room.  The  small  brothers-in-law  that  are  to  be,  indulge  in 
a  rather  vindictive  skirmish  over  a  moccasin-game  in  utter 


U.'h  ' 


I 


J64 


T//E  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


ignorance  of  any  bodily  presence;  and  the  seven  sisters  of 
Philomel  criticise  the  cut  of  her  lover's  garments,  and  the 
classic  but  retiring  beauty  of  his  countenance  with  a  charming 
unconsciousness  of  his  close  proximity.  Philomel,  plastic 
and  pliable  Philomel,  is  in  no  manner  abashed  at  being  wooed 
in  the  presence  of  her  relatives,  and  even  becomes  herself  the 
wooer  on  discovering  that  Gabriel  is  in  a  certain  degree 
timid.  She  intimates  by  caresses  of  the  hand  that  they  are 
alone,  and  converses  in  a  tone  of  voice  sufficiently  loud  to 
dispel  the  idea  that  they  can  be  overheard.  If  Gabriel  re- 
covers courage  in  some  measure,  he  looks  upon  Philomel 
admiringly,  as  he  would  upon  any  other  thing  of  beauty,  and 
it  is  not  long  before  she  becomes  conscious  of  the  observa- 
tion. Then  it  is  a  study  to  watch  the  airs  assumed  by  this 
half-breed  belle.  She  is  as  well  versed  in  the  masonry  of  her 
sex  as  if  born  with  a  white  skin  and  reared  in  Madison 
Square.  There  is  no  difference  in  her  mode  of  action ;  the 
only  difference  is  in  the  effect. 

Gabriel,  unless  he  is  an  adept  at  the  business,  cannot  en- 
tirely rid  himself  of  tix?  depressing  effect  of  twelve  pairs  of 
eyes  taking  in  his  glances.  He  is,  in  consequence,  not  so 
susceptible  to  her  wiles  as  he  would  be  if  otherwise  situated. 
At  first  he  limits  his  love-making  to  affectionate  looks, 
caresses,  and  the  simpler  forms  of  speech  which  convey  to 
her  the  knowledge  that  she  is  the  light  of  his  eyes.  As  the 
evening  advances,  and  his  embarrassment  wears  off,  he  ven- 
tures upon  remarks  of  a  more  intensely  passionate  nature, 
indicative  of  his  love  and  desire  to  be  first  in  her  affections. 


A    WINTER  CAMP. 


265 


The  mixed  language  spoken  by  the  lovers  affords  an  unlim- 
ited supply  of  diminutives;  and  Gabriel  may  call  his  sweet- 
heart by  the  names  of  almost  all  the  animal  creation,  and  yet 
use  but  legitimate  pet  names.  In  the  Cree  tongue  he  may 
address  her  as  his  musk-ox,  or,  if  he  desires  to  become  more 
tender,  may  call  her  his  musk-rat  with  equal  propriety.  By  a 
blending  of  two  Indian  tongues  she  becomes  a  beautiful 
wolverine,  and  a  standard  but  commonplace  love-name  is 
"my  little  pig." 

The  half-breed's  pet  names  have  all  been  taken  from 
those  of  animals  that  seem  to  be  especially  innocent  or  beau- 
tiful in  his  eyes ;  and  the  fact  that  different  persons  have  dif- 
ferent standards  of  beauty  and  innocence  has  led  to  the 
invention  of  an  almost  unlimited  vocabulary  of  diminutives. 
When  the  lady-love  is  inclined  to  be  stout,  the  names  of  the 
larger  animals  are  chosen,  and  rather  liked  by  her  upon 
whom  they  are  conferred.  We  remember  that  one  woman 
was  affectionately  called  the  Megatherium,  a  name  that  clung 
to  her  for  months,  as  being  peculiarly  the  representative  of 
ideal  love. 

After  the  lovers  have  passed  a  considerable  time  in  this 
manner  alone,  as  it  were,  the  sisters  and  other  female  rela- 
tives of  Philomel  evince  an  inclination  to  take  part  in  the 
wooing.  They  participate  in  the  conversation  by  almost 
imperceptible  degrees ;  then  gather  by  slow  approaches  into 
the  corner  set  apart  for  the  courting;  and  at  last  become  a 
radiant  but  tawny  group,  sparkling  and  scintillating  in  the 

humor  of  the  heathen    tongues.     They  resolve   themselves 
12 


■     ! 
'    I- 


266 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


V  >A 


into  a  species  of  whippers-in  ;  condole  with  each  other  upon 
the  prospective  loss  of  their  dear  sister;  congratulate  Gabriel 
upon  having  gained  the  affections  of  so  irreproachable  a 
maiden  as  Philomel,  and  feel  assured  that  their  lives  will  be 
one  of  unalloyed  happiness.  In  this  way  the  half-breed 
lover  is  wafted  into  matrimony  with  a  facility  and  dispatch 
not  easily  excelled  by  her  fairer  sisters  of  paved  avenues. 

After  a  short  season  of  courtship,  the  anticipated  mother- 
in-law  contributes  to  the  certainty  of  the  matrimonial  ven- 
ture by  exhibiting,  with  commendable  pride,  the  household 
goods  which  are  to  accompany  Philomel  upon  her  departure 
from  the  domestic  fold.  A  feather  bed,  certain  articles  of 
embroidered  clothing,  highly  decorated  moccasins,  and  sun- 
dry pieces  of  earthenware  and  tin  constitute  the  whole.  To 
this  the  host  adds  a  trade-musket,  which,  he  says,  has  been 
used  by  him  in  the  chase,  and  has  been  destined  from  the 
period  of  earliest  infancy  as  a  present  to  the  fortunate  win- 
ner of  Philomel.  He  takes  occasion,  at  the  same  time,  to 
produce  the  black  bottle,  and  ask  the  pleasure  of  drinking 
the  health  of  his  prospective  son-in-law,  which  he  does  in  a 
demonstratively  paternal  way  affecting  to  behold.  ■. 

If  Gabriel  seems  to  be  overcome  by  the  beneficence  of 
the  family,  and  the  threatening  prospects  of  immediate  matri- 
mony, and  relapses  into  quietude  and  sombre  thought,  his 
host  insists  that  he  must  be  suffering  from  hunger  again,  and 
expresses  his  wonder  that  he  has  been  able  to  keep  up  so 
long.  As  the  half-breed  idea  of  hospitality  consists  in  oft 
repeated  food  and  drink,  Gabriel  knows  that  it  is  useless  as 


i 


A    WINTER  CAMP. 


267 


well  as  impolitic  to  refuse,  and  is  accordingly  made  the  re- 
cipient of  more  buffalo-hump  and  tea,  which  leaves  him  in  a 
surfeited  and  numbed  condition,  and  quite  willing  to  be 
married  out  of  hand.  P'rom  this  time  on  Gabriel  is,  so 
to  speak,  an  engaged  man.  As  the  evenings  return,  he  re- 
pairs to  the  corner  of  the  room  where  the  placid  Philomel 
awaits  him,  and  again  the  imaginary  walls  are  reared  up,  ren- 
dering it  an  apartment  of  itself.  Here  he  may  hurl  amatory 
adjectives  and  noun  substantives  at  htr  brow  to  his  heart's 
content;  for  there  comes  a  day  ni  ihe  near  future  when 
they  must  repair  to  the  priest,  and  when  Philomel  will  re- 
move the  gaudy  handkerchief  from  her  head,  and  wear  it 
crossed  meekly  upon  her  breast  in  token  of  her  wifehood. 

Against  this  marriage  day  Gabriel  accumulates  rich  store 
of  buffalo-meat  and  Jamaica  rum,  and,  if  possible,  a  fine-cloth 
capote  of  cerulean  hue,  and  ornamental  leggins  of  bewilder- 
ing beadwork ;  for  the  unmarried  half-breed 
in  the  consummation  of  his  toilet  first  pays 
attention  to  his  legs.  His  cap  may  be  old, 
his  capote  out  at  the  elbows,  but  his  leggins 
must  be  without  spot  or  blemish.  A  leg- 
gin  of  dark-blue  cloth,  extending  to  the 
knee,  tied  at  the  top  with  a  gaudy  garter  of 
worsted-work,  and  having  a  broad  stripe  of 
heavy  bead  or  silk-work  running  down  the  outer  seam,  is  his 
insignia  of  respectability. 

Gabriel's  marriage  generally  takes   place   in  the  winter, 
when  the  cares  of  existence  are  lightened  by  reason  of  ad- 


HALF-BREED   LEGGINS. 


IMAGE  EVALUATION 
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268 


T^E  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


vances  made  hirr,  upon  the  labor  of  the  ensuing  season,  or  a 
generous  supply  of  provisions  in  hand  from  the  late  fall  hunt. 
On  the  appointed  day  he  makes  a  present  of  a  few  ponies,  or 
a  quantity  of  provisions,  to  his  prospective  father-in-law,  and, 
accompanied  by  the  paternal  blessing  and  a  numerous  crowd 
of  friends,  repairs  with  Philomel  to  the  chapel,  where  the 
offices  of  some  spiritual  father  make  the  twain  one  flesh. 
The  ceremony  over,  all  persons  concerned  repair  to  the  resi- 
dence of  Baptiste,  or  Pascal,  or  Antoine,  who  has  agreed  for 
a  consideration  to  permit  the  wedding  festivities  to  be  held 
in  his  house.  Everybody  is  free  to  attend  the  feasting  and 
dancing  which  follow.  When  the  festivities  are  over  the 
happy  couple  begin  life  upon  a  capital  stock  of  a  pony  or 
two,  a  few  kettles,  a  pair  of  blankets,  a  trading-gun,  and  are 
happy. 

Attached  to  every  winter  camp,  and  forming  part  and 
parcel  of  it,  is  a  considerable  following  of  Indian  hangers-on. 
These  picturesque  vagabonds  constitute  the  rags  and  rem- 
nants of  the  camp  dress,  as  it  were,  and  vary  the  jollity  and 
dissipation  of  their  half-breed  brethren  by  their  more  grave 
and  sombre  demeanor.  Most  "grave  and  reverend  seig- 
niors "  are  they,  who  stalk  through  the  squalid  huts  and 
tepees  of  the  encampment  like  green  and  yellow  apparitions, 
or  melancholy  gods  of  bile  from  a  dyspeptic's  inferno. 

Occasionally  they  join  themselves  permanently  to  the 
camp,  and  their  dusky  and  aquiline  features  at  length  come 
to  assume  a  certain  degree  of  individuality ;  but  for  the 
most  part  they  are  sunny-day  friends,  only  seeking  the  dissi- 


A    WINTER  CAMP. 


269 


;ason,  or  a 
;  fall  hunt, 
ponies,  or 
i-law,  and, 
ous  crowd 
where  the 
one  flesh. 
:o  the  resi- 
agreed  for 
to  be  held 
isting    and 
e  over  the 
a  pony  or 
an,  and  are 

g  part  and 
langers-on. 
5  and  rem- 

jollity  and 
more  grave 
erend  seig- 
l  huts  and 
ipparitions, 

mo. 

itly  to  the 
ength  come 
jut  for  the 
ig  the  dissi- 


pations of  the  hunting-camps  when  the  stages  are  well  loaded 
with  hump,  and  brisket  and  ribs,  and  disappearing  when  want 
and  scarcity  usurp  the  place  of  plenty.  For  these  children  of 
the  forest  and  plain  well  know  that  the  winter  camp  is  the 
most  perfect  socialist  and  communistic  community  in  the 
world.  Its  members  hold  every  article  of  food  in  common. 
A  half-breed  is  starving,  and  the  rest  of  the  camp  want  food. 
He  kills  a  buffalo,  and  to  the  last  bit  the  coveted  food  is 
shared  by  all.  There  is  but  a  thin  rabbit,  a  piece  of  dried 
fish,  or  an  old  bit  of  raw-hide  in  the  hut,  and  the  red  or 
white  stranger  comes  and  is  hungry;  he  gets  his  share, 
and  is  first  served  and  best  attended.  If  a  child  starves  in 
the  camp,  one  may  know  that  in  every  hut,  famine  reigns, 
and  gaunt  hunger  dwells  in  every  stomach.  When  the  time 
comes,  the  Indian  shares  his  last  morsel  with  the  rest ;  but  so 
long  as  the  meat  of  his  half-breed  brethren  lasts,  he  is  con- 
tent to  remain  in  a  complete  state  of  destitution  as  regards 
food  of  his  own.  In  other  words,  he  finds  it  easier  to  hunt 
buffalo  on  the  half-breed's  stages  than  on  the  bleak  plains  in 
mid-winter. 

Coming  in  from  the  wrack  and  tempest,  and  finding  the 
camp  stages  well  stocked  with  food,  the  Indian  begins  to 
starve  immediately.  At  all  hours  of  the  day  and  night  the 
men,  the  squaws  and  the  children,  form  doleful  processions  to 
the  huts  for  food.  An  Indian  never  knocks  at  the  door ;  he 
simply  lifts  the  latch,  enters  edgeways,  shakes  hands  all 
round,  then  seats  himself,  without  a  word,  upon  the  floor. 
One  may  be  at  breakfast,  at  dinner  or  in  bed,  it  doesn't  mat- 


^m^ 


•'* 


270 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


ler — he  will  wait.  With  the  pangs  of  hunger  gnawing  at  his 
stomach,  and  viewing,  no  doubt  with  longing  eyes,  the  food 
around,  he  yet,  according  to  Indian  etiquette,  refrains  from 
clamoring  at  once  for  food,  but  sits  and  smokes  for  a  long 
time  without  making  the  slightest  allusion  to  his  suffering 
condition.  When,  in  due  course,  his  host  offers  him  some- 
thing to  eat,  he  mentions  the  wants  of  himself  and  family, 
that  he  has  not  eaten  for  so  many  hours,  and  so  forth.  He 
seems  exceedingly  grateful  for  the  assistance,  and  promises 
to  return  in  a  day  or  two  and  repay  the  obligation — a  prom- 
ise which  he  never  fulfills. 

If  there  is  any  liquor  about  the  camp,  the  Indian  is  al- 
ways the  first  to  find  it  and  the  last  to  leave  it.  He  divines 
its  presence  instinctively.  He  brings  his  marten-skins,  his 
fish,  or  whatever  he  may  happen  to  have,  and  insists  upon 
having  his  share ;  and  it  does  not  answer  to  dilute  it  too  much 
for  his  use.  It  must  be  strong  enough  to  be  inflammable,  for 
he  always  tests  it  by  pouring  a  few  drops  in  the  fire.  If  it 
possesses  the  one  property  from  which  he  has  given  it  the 
name  of  fire-water,  he  is  satisfied,  whatever  its  flavor  or  other 
qualities  may  be.  A  very  little  suffices  to  upset  him,  and 
when  intoxicated  he  is  the  most  irrepressible  being  a  quiet 
man  can  possibly  have  about  him.  He  chuckles  and  hugs 
his  tin  pot,  exclaiming :  "  Tarpoy  !  tarpoy !  "  (It  is  true !  it 
is  true !)  scarcely  able  to  believe  the  delightful  fact.  When 
he  begins  to  sober  up,  he  will  sell  the  shirt  off  his  back  for 
another  drain  of  the  beloved  poison.  Failing  to  get  it,  he 
pours  hot  water  into  the  cup,  in  which  the  rum  has  been,  and 


r-i 


A    WINTER  CAMP. 


271 


ng  at  his 
the  food 
lins  from 
or  a  long 
suffering 
lira  some- 
d  family, 
rth.  He 
promises 
—a  prom- 

iian  is  al- 
le  divines 
-skins,  his 
jists  upon 
too  much 
mable,  for 
ire.     If  it 
ren  it  the 
or  other 
him,  and 
ng  a  quiet 
and  hugs 
is  true !  it 
t.     When 
back  for 
get  it,  he 
been,  and 


drinks  it  to  obtain  the  slight  flavor  which  still  clings  to  it ; 
often  fiUmg  and  emptying  it  half  a  dozen  times  before  being 
fully  satisfied  that  the  scent  of  the  distilled  molasses  has  long 
ac^o  left  it. 

The   Indian's  habitation  is  seldom   in  the  camp  itself. 
He  generally  places  his  lodge  of  skins  or  bark  a  little  way  off 
in  the  forest,  and  keeps  a  narrow  path  beaten  to  the  open 
space.     His  dwelling,  inside  or  out,  always  presents  the  same 
spectacle  :   battered-looking  dogs    of  all  ages  surround  the 
lodge  ;.  in  the  low  branches  of  the  trees,  or  upon  a  stage, 
meat,  snowshoes,  dog  sledges,  etc.,  lie  safe  from  canine  rav- 
age.    Inside,  from  seven  to  fifteen  persons  hover  over  the 
fire  burning  in  the  centre.     Meat,  cut  into  thin  slices,  hangs 
drying  in  the  upper  smoke ;    the  inevitable  puppy  dogs  play 
with  sticks;    the  fat,  greasy  children  pinch  the  puppy  dogs, 
drink  on  all  fours  out  of  a  black  kettle,  or  saw  off  mouthfuls 
of  meat  between  fingers  and  lips;  the  squaws,  old  and  young, 
engage   in  cooking,  or  in  nursing  with  a  nonchalance  which 
appals  the  modest  stranger.     Such  is  the  lodge  of  the  Indian 
hanger-on ;    sometimes  a   pleasant   place   enough   to   while 
away  an  hour  in  study  of  the  aboriginal  character,  for  the 
appropriate  gestures  and  expressive  pantomime  with  which 
an   Indian  illustrates  his  speech  renders  it  easy  to  under- 
stand.    One  learns  without  much  difficulty  to  interpret  the 
long  hunting  stories  with  which  they  while  away  the  evenings 
in  camp.      The  scenes  described  are  nearly  all  acted ;    the 
motions  of  the  game,  the  stealthy  approach  of  the  hunter, 
the  taking  aim,  the  shot,  the  cry  of  the  animal,  or  the  noise 


n 

r  ;  -;<  I 


I 


273 


r//^  GKEA  T  FUR  LAUD, 


of  its  dashing  nway,  nnd  the  pursuit,  arc  ftU  given  as  the  tale 
goes  on. 

Associating  with  tho  ahotigincs  entirely,  otie  rapidly 
pit^ks  up  their  language,  and  in  a  liltio  tinio  v;\\\  speak  it 
fluently  if  nt)t  granjinatieally.  Nothing  is  easier  than  to  get  a 
decent  sn\attering  of  the  Indian  languages,  although  the 
eonstruetii)n  of  most  of  them  is  extremely  intricate.  'I'he 
nameb  of  many  articles  is  the  explanation  of  their  use  or 
properties,  the  word  being  a  cond)ination  of  a  participle  and 
a  noun,  the  latter  meaning  generally  "a  thing,"  Thus  a 
cup  is  called  a  drinking-lhing,  a  gun  a  shooting-thing,  etc. 
Kspecially  tlocs  this  apply  to  articles  introduced  by  the  whites, 
and  not  pertaining  strictly  to  savage  life.  The  names  of 
such  articles  invariably  express  their  use,  and  very  fretpiently 
the  motions  made  in  using  them.  This  peculiarity  also  ap- 
pears in  their  i)roper  names,  which  are  generally  descriptive 
of  some  personal  singularity.  Hut  the  sign  language  used  by 
the  Indian  is,  after  all,  the  greatest  aid  to  conversation,  and 
is  very  complete.  Their  pantomimical  power  seems  to  be 
perfect.  There  are  no  two  tribes  of  Indians  that  use  exactly 
the  same  oral  language,  but  all  are  conversant  with  the 
same  pantomimic  code. 

The  costume  of  the  Indian,  when  in  the  privacy  of  his 
own  home,  is  somewhat  limited  in  its  nature.  Like  other 
tlirit'ty  persons,  he  is  given  to  wearing  his  old  clothes.  That 
feathered  vertebra,  which  is  seen  meandering  down  the  ex- 
ceedingly straight  back  of  the  Indian  in  the  picture-books,  is 
only  uVd   upon  state  occasions.     Ordinarily  he  wears  leg- 


r:i! 


A   WlNTEfl  CAMP. 


273 


the  tale 

rai.iUly 
jpcak  it 
.  to  get  a 
11  gh   the 
c.     The 
r  iiso  01* 
•il)lc  and 
Thus  a 
\ing,  etc. 
ic  whites, 
\aiiios  ot 
rcqucntly 
\  also  ap- 
:scriptivc 
used  by 
vtion,  and 
nis  to  be 
so  exactly 
with   the 


\<.\ 


:y  of  his 
ike  other 
OS.  That 
n  the  ex- 
;-books,  is 
,vears  leg- 


gins  rca(  hing  a  corliiin  way  up  hin  legs,  and  a  shirt  extend- 
ing a  certain  w.iy  down   his  trunk  ;    lakcn  logolhcr,  and  thoy 
arc  not  unlike  that  garment  so  pleaded  for  by  reformers  in 
female  dress.     Sew  the  Ijot- 
tom  of  the  shirt  to  the  top 
of  the  leggins,  and  you  have 
what?    The  (:hcmil(K)n.   I'^u- 
reka!    Ages  ago  the  chemi* 
loon  dawned  uprn  the  mind 
of    the    untutored     Indian; 
but    inventions  are  of  slow  "^ 
growth.     It  took  three  hun- 
dred years    to  develop    the 
sofa    from  the   three-legged 
Stool :    so  with  the  garment 
of  the    rod-man ;  and    it    is 
still  in  process  of  evolution.  The  moccasin-top,  protecting  the 
ankle,  was  perhaps  the  IJathybius  from  "/hich  the  aboriginal 
chemiloon  was  evoived.     Gradually  it  crept  up  the  leg  and 
assumed  the  shape  of  the  leggin.     Down    10  meet  it  from 
the  neck,  evolved   Irom  a  wampum  collar,  came  the  shirt, 
slowly  extending  downward  until  it  now  almost  meets  the 
leggin.     What  will  be  the  wild  joy  in  the  red-man's  tent, 
when,  years  hence,  the  ends  of  the  two  garments  shall  meet, 
and  the  perfect  chemiloon  be  formed !  Until  then  he  enters 
a  caveat  against  any  ini'ringement  of  his  patent;  for  the  in- 
vention belongs  to  the  Indian. 

By  some  seeming  incongruity  the  winter  camp  is  nearly 


INDIAN     (.OBTUMK. 


I  i 


SVf 


KM 


fr 


274 


rUE  CUE  A  T  FVR  LAND, 


always  railed  a  Mission — an  appi'llation  warranted,  perhaps, 
by  the  invariable  presence  there  of  a  priest,  either  tempo- 
rarily or  permanently.  This  personage  is  the  spiritual  Kuidc, 
phiU)si>[)her  and  Irienil,  of  a  very  disreputable  lloek,  and  his 
duties,  if  eonseientiously  performed,  are  of  a  very  arduous 
nature.  And  it  is  seldom  that  they  are  not  conscientiously 
perft)rmeil ;  for  no  n»an  can  labor  more  disinterestedly  for 
the  good  of  his  fellow  than  the  missionary  priest.  It  is  a 
startling  contrast  to  find  in  these  rude  camps  men  of  refined 
culture,  and  the  highest  mental  excellence,  devoting  them- 
selves to  the  task  of  civilizing  the  deni/ens  of  the  forest  and 
plaits — sacrificing  all  the  cotnforts  and  advantages  of  their  bet- 
ter lives  to  the  advancement  of  a  barbarian  brother,  whose  final 
elevation  to  the  ranks  of  civilized  men  they  can  never  hope  to 
see.  And  yet  they  are  to  be  found  everywhere  through(;ut  the 
lone  places  of  the  North,  dwelling  in  the  midst  of  wild  and 
savage  peoples,  whom  they  attend  with  a  strange  and  pater- 
nal de.otion.  On  the  banks  of  lonely  lakes  they  minister  to 
the  wants  and  needs  of  the  wild  men  who  repair  thither  peri- 
odically to  fish  ;  in  the  huge  camps  of  our  barbarian  brethren 
on  the  limitless  plains;  at  the  isolated  trading-posts  scattered 
over  the  Fur  Land;  and,  seeking  them  in  their  lonely  huts 
or  squalid  lodges,  one  ever  finds  the  same  simple  surround- 
ings, the  same  evidences  of  a  faith  that  seems  more  than 
human. 

Prominent  among  the  rude  landmarks  of  the  winter  camp 
is  the  store  of  the  free-trader.  Of  more  pretentious  exterior, 
and  of  larger  proportions  than  the  dwellings  of  the  hunters, 


A   WINTER  CAAfr. 


27$ 


perhaps, 
tcnipo- 
!il  nuidi', 
,  uiul  his 
arduous 
cntiously 
UuUy  for 
It  is  a 
Df  refined 
ing  ihem- 
forcst  and 
■  their  bet- 
,vhose  final 
^er  hope  to 
ugh(;ut  the 
wild  and 
;ind  paler- 
Iminister  to 
ither  peri- 
n  brethren 
s  scattered 
|lonely  huts 
surround- 
more  than 

['inter  camp 
jus  exterior, 
Ihe  hunters, 


it  is  easily  discerned  at  a  glanrtf.  Ah  a  rule,  itii  owner  i» 
developed  from  the  ordinary  plain-hunter,  Anloine,  or  Van- 
<;al,  or  Haptiste,  having  followed  the  ( liasc  f(jr  yearn,  and 
proving  a  more  succesKful  hunter  than  liin  fcllowH,  accumu- 
latCH  a  fair  supply  of  robes  and  pennies.  On  some  springtime 
visit  to  the  settlemenls,  the  fur-trader  with  whom  he  ban 
dealt  for  years,  noticing  his  thrift  and  success,  offers  t(j  (nufit 
him  with  goods  on  condition  of  receiving  the  first  offer  of  the 
furs  for  which  they  are  exchanged.  Pascal  \h  delighted  with 
the  prospect  of  becoming  a  free-trader,  and  |)ays  down  a  small 
sum  in  cash  and  furs,  and  receives  a  considerable  amount 
of  ammunition  and  finery  on  credit.  With  this  he  starts  for  the 
plains,  and  at  some  eligible  point  near  a  water-course,  and  in, 
advantageous  jjroximity  to  both  buffalo  gtoimds  and  forest, 
in  order  to  attract  a  trade  in  both  classes  of  fur,  locates  his 
trading-store.  Around  this  nucleus  gather  the  nomadic 
plain-hunters  and  Indians,  and  lastly  the  priest;  for  Pascal 
may  be  said  to  be  the  founder  of  the  winter  camp.  The  si/.e 
of  his  store  is  regulated  by  the  amount  of  his  stock,  but  likely 
in  any  event  to  be  the  most  pretentious  in  the  camp.  It  may 
have  two  apartments,  but  more  likely  one.  The  goods  are 
kept  in  boxes  and  bales,  and  produced  only  as  required. 
Pascal  has  yet  to  learn  the  art  of  attracting  custom  by  the 
display  of  his  wares.  In  tr.'-i,  there  i:;  but  little  need  for 
him  to  do  so;  for,  if  the  improvident  Indian  or  half-breed 
should  by  some  fortuitous  circumstance  become  possessed 
of  a  surplus  of  salable  provision  or  fur,  its  ownership  be- 
comes a  consuming   flame   to  him  until    disposed   of.      So 


i 


276 


r//Ji  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


Pascal's  stock  of  merchandise  decreases  rapidly  ns  the  winter 
advances,  and  his  store  of  robes  and  furs  increases  in  propor- 
tion. Most  of  the  hitter  are  purchased  cheaply,  and  for  an 
equivalent  of  gilt  and  color,  as  it  were;  for  the  tastes  of  his 
customers  are  of  a  very  decided  sort,  like  those  of  other 
mixed  races. 

If  rascal  trades  merchandise  alone,  his  life  flows  unevent- 
fully along,  and  he  may  enjoy  counting  his  store  of  peltries 
as  they  increase  day  by  day.     He  is  looked  up  to  by  his  fel- 
lows as  a  kind  of  Delphic  oracle  upon  all  disputed  points,  on 
account  of  his  superior  wealth  and  standing.     His  vanity  is 
flattered  by  such  adulation,  ami  he  assumes  an  air  of  vast 
importance  as  the  head  man  of  the  camp.     He  becomes  the 
arbiter  in  all  petty  disputes,  the  umpire  at  horse-races,  and 
general  referee  in  knotty  and  vexatious  games  oi grand-major , 
poker,  and  the  moccasin-game.     His  authority  is  second  to 
none  save  the  priest,  who,  as  the  spiritual  head  of  the  camp, 
assumes  the  first  place  by  right  of  eminent  fitness  and  pro- 
priety.    If  Pascal  trades  liijuor,  however,  his  lines  are  not 
cast  in  pleasant    places,  notwithstanding   the  heavy  profits 
upon  the  barter.     Every  day  turmoil  reigns  in  the  camp,  and 
sounds  of  revelry  fill  the  midnight  air.     His  otherwise  quiet 
store  becomes  the  rendezvous  of  a  cursing,  clamoring,  gestic- 
ulating assemblage  of  men.     There  the  betting  and  drinking 
of  the  afternoon  are  succeeded  by  the  deeper  drinking  and 
gambling  of  the  evening;  and  the  sound  of  shuffling  caids, 
the  clinking  of  the  buttons  and  bullets  of  the  moccasin-game, 
and  the  exclamations  of  triumph  and  despair  of  winner  and 


A   W'l.WTER  CAMP, 


VI 


e  winter 
propor- 
[1  for  an 
;s  of  his 
of  other 

uncvcnl- 
peltries 
y  his  fel- 
(oints,  on 
vanity  is 
r  of  vast 
omes  the 
aces,  and 

econd  to 
he  camp, 
and  pro- 
5  are  not 
y  profits 
amp,  and 
vise  quiet 
ig,  gestic- 
drinking 
king  and 
ng  caids, 
sin-game, 
nner  and 


loser  are  heani  at  all  times.  Kiim  flows  freely  ;  for  the 
plain-hunter  carries  to  the  trading-store  every  peltry  he  can 
obtain.  Under  these  circumstances  the  free-trader  becomes 
a  curse  to  his  brethren,  and  his  store  a  plague-spot  upon  the 
plains. 

Toward  the  middle  of  April  Pascal  begins  to  pack  up  his 
furs,  collect  his  outstanding  debts,  and  make  preparations  for 
a  return  to  the  settlements  with  the  proceeds  of  the  year's 
trade.  His  ponies  are  brought  in  from  the  prairie  where 
they  have  wintered  out;  the  fractured  wooden  carts  are 
bound  up  with  raw-hide  lines ;  the  broken-spirited  ponies 
coaxed  into  a  semblance  of  life  and  vigor;  the  dusky  progeny 
packed  in  with  bales  and  blankets,  the  hut  locked  up,  and  he 
sets  forth  for  the  lonely  oasis  of  civilization  nearer  the  bor- 
der. On  the  main  prairie  trails  he  joins  the  trains  of  other 
traders,  who  have  left  their  winter  stations  at  the  same  time. 
Constantly  augmented  by  new  additions,  and  following  each 
other  in  single  file,  the  long  line  seems  at  length  intermina- 
ble; and  by  the  time  the  border  settlements  are  reached, 
often  varies  from  two  to  three  miles  in  length.  Their  long 
winding  columns  sparkle  with  life  and  gayety;  cart-tilts  of 
every  hue  flash  brightly  in  the  sun  ;  hosts  of  wolfish  dogs 
run  in  and  out  among  the  vehicles,  and  troops  of  loose  horses 
gallop  alongside.  The  smartly-dressed  men  ride  their  showi- 
est steeds,  their  wives  and  daughters  traveling  in  the  carts, 
enthroned  on  packs  of  fur.  The  traders  wear  their  pictur- 
esque summer  dress — brass-buttoned  dark-blue  capotes,  with 
moleskin  or  corduroy  trousers  and  calico  shirts.     Wide-awake 


I 


1     ! 


1     { 


I    f- 


2;8 


THE  GREAT  FUR  I.AXD, 


hnts.  or  cloth  taps  with  peaks,  aro  tho  favorite  hoad-rovcring. 
( I ayly  cinltroidorod  saddk'-cloths  and  varii'nalod  sashes  nre  pre- 
ferred to  those  of  less  showy  appearance  ;  red,  white  and  Ithio 
beading  on  black  ^;round  is  conunon. 

Reaching  the  sclllenuMits,  the  free-trader  ascertains 
the  current  price  t)f  peltries,  then  repairs  to  his  outfitter 
and  offers  him  his  stock  at  the  highest  niarki't  rates.  To 
protect  himself,  the  merchant  generally  accepts ;  for,  if 
Pascal  sells  elsewhere,  and  i)l)lains  the  money  for  his  peltries, 
the  chances  are  that  he  forgets  his  obligation,  and  returns  to 
the  plains  without  licpiidating  his  debt.  Having  soltl  his  furs, 
however,  the  half-breed  trader  next  proceeds  to  clothe  himself 
and  his  family  in  all  the  gaudy  finery  that  money  can  pur- 
chase, ami  then,  procuring  an  ample  supply  of  rum,  gives  a 
party  to  his  frienils.  In  this  manner,  and  by  the  dissipations 
induced  by  a  prolonged  sojourn  in  the  settlements,  he 
manages  to  squander  the  greater  portion  of  the  season's  earn- 
ings, and  finds  himself,  when  ready  to  return  to  the  plains,  as 
poor  as  he  was  the  year  before.  Then  he  returns  to  the 
trader,  who  has  anticipated  just  such  a  consummation  of 
things,  and  obtaining  credit  for  a  new  outfit,  finally  departs. 

But  it  is  a  month  or  more  before  the  last  half-breed  trader 
in  tasseled  cap,  sky-blue  capote,  brilliant  sash  and  corduroy 
trousers,  has  had  his  last  dram  in  the  border  grog-shops,  and 
carries  his  fevered  brow  off  toward  the  setting  sun  ;  a  month 
before  the  last  ^art-train,  with  its  following  of  mongrel  dogs, 
unkempt  ponies,  lowing  kine  and  tawny  human  beings,  has 
disappeared  beyond  the  horizon.     Very  brilliant  and  pjctur- 


/f    WINTER  CAMP. 


279 


cnquc  they  were  while  they  stayed  almiit  the  Hettlements.  Their 

hrown  and  Hinoke-discohjrcd  leather  tents  dotted  the  prairie 

for  weeks  ;    there  was  always  a  scurrying  of  hoises  and  a 

barkinj^  of  doi^s  in  the   neighborhood  ;  a  ( (jiilinual   feasting 

and  drinking  ;  a  re(  klcss  riding  to  and  fro,  and  the  jargf)n  of 

voices  vociferating  and  shouting  in  h.df-a-do/.en  languages. 

I'ierre  and  Antoine  ran  a  mad  race  through  the  streets  of  the 

tf>wn  ;  dusky    Darby  and  tawny  Joan   made   love   U|)f»n   the 

open  plain  in  anything  but  the  conventional  manner ;  (labriel 

drank  deep  of  the  white  man's  fire-water,  and  fell  prone  in  the 

gutter,  but,  raised  to  his  pony's  back,  went  off  at  a  wild  gallop, 

to  the  astonishment  of  every  one,  as  if   he  were  part   and 

parcel  of  that  unkempt  animal;  Philomel,  appareled  in  scarlet 

cloth  and  bewildering  beadwrk,  like  the  little  savage   perl 

that  she  was,  danced  down  tne  still  hou»-s  in  the  shoii  grass  of 

the  prairie,  to  the  mu  .ic  of  some  long-haired  and  rnoccasined 

Paganini.     Dark  but  comely  was  Philomel  ;  her  full  rounded 

figure,  black  hair,  bewitching  eyes  and  little  affectations,  were 

enough  to  soften  the  soul  of  an  anchorite.     Like  Mr.  Locker's 

heroine,  she  was — 

"  An  arifjel  in  a  frock, 
With  ii  fascinating  cock 
To  tier  nose." 

Her  little  rnoccasined  feet  will  accompany  the  quick  thud 
of  hunter  heel,  as  Louison  or  Baptiste  dance  unceasingly 
upon  the  half-hewn  floor  of  some  winter  hut,  in  the  glow  of 
firelight  through  parchment  windows,  and  to  the  sound  of 
fiddle  scraped  by  rough  hunter  hand. 


m 


■4: 

•'I 


H 


\^s\  \\fyvV ¥V¥V^  WW  \\\s  \\\v^\A^v   \s\ )\  \\\M\  ^m^  m\\  \\M\m 

W^  ^\  \M '^^\\\>S\s\\\\  '^^v^My^^vy^rt^  vhMrt>^V«*h  ><Hii  Ii^vhI  till- 
^^ v^A>sv^* vsNS  ^^wsvM^  ^vvW^^sU^.    \ \ \'  \\m\\\  i\\\\m\\\\\\\\ 

%^^  ^)S^\t  yS|^VA^S\\  \\\M\S\\  ?\\\>^  *^\n^  MH^  ^^<  Hi**  >!>'*'<  H\\\\\\ 

^<«  #i«*v^^  vsV^^^x^  ^v*i  ^^^^^''  NV^N^vK  ^%  Asm  \\ss  \mm\\  M\  i 
;j^  ^i^^^ ^vv^\y^^ ^\vNW  ^W  tW<  x\V ^W  hxSV^x^ \\A\S\i^ rt  i.U^»'  \\\\\\\^ 

.^i^tif^  ^  ^i^'^^^x  <W  !ix^^^^  xM  l^x^  i»<y\\\x*  \\\\\\\  \\\m  \\sx'  k»u»r» 
^^^  ^>.v^<  ^^  At  Av^  Avs^  xnV  t^Nvix^ttw^  x\x^^\i^^i  Wxm  \\\^  \t* 


) ' 


f 


I    /(  hrtJrff  I  ,1  Jiff' 


m 


m\  HllHf)!»'lliN  !(|ll(((Nf  «|//N^  Ik  I||.<<I  f/Ml/ml^  tjhHl^M  f//  M//^ 

ii'iiiiii  III  \i\Hm '' H  f//lllHj^  M^ii,''  ^hi  fh  #*/y  ^^'^iifikhmfi 
(III  Kim  (iiifiHHj  H«  iMf  fli^  \\\\\i\**  Ht  iii^  ^f^^mi  Mffii  hkH 

IjHJilH  fMlHf-Ni  lllH  #|j^/l^*  fihiUU'  'hinihf  i.H  UmAmhi  Mi 
IlIlM  fll(Hll)^  HlH  #IHIf«f.     Il/  \\v  ,f,ilH^  if^  iim^^ii^  f'MHHH 

lifill  iiiifi  III*'  H^mmHiii  imHimMi  Hi  a  ^^}f  Mf  h\^  a#/// 
rtini  \\m\\\i  \[  \m\  //I  ^mi  m^  HHjiimhti  h  mfi(»imH^^  haih 

\imi\i  IkhH  «((H|m^  khiiihU  iiUhiiiii/f  Hn  K  Hllfi  Ht  '^  tH\lhKlH''  fH 

^\1\*\^^  11  Hum  hill'     iii\i^\nii  ih  iim'iHiiHUih  pif/kln^  y-v^* 

lliiHlH»ll!iU'li'  li^ft'ii'i^  Hi  Wf»  mi  #/r#  tin  jitmtipiii  nttf\t^i»A  fti 
HiJ*  hull  l/fx^'l.  \U>'  itHHiii^^  WHU  ffthf'ti  Hl^ht'f  MH^  h'fifif^f, 
iiMill  II  fhhiUN\  iUh  tnmuitiiiih  itm  ul  ttHt*  Umfiff^f^  ^i^ot^ 

Nif'HiHiti  Hrllhl*  fif/'  ihtihtdUit'  Pt-Wi^H,  0ifi  Htt*)  tf^fpfH' 
Hiitfly  H(i|(prtf^fl  i\\im  iUti  ¥-t'tit*f  fti  hHt'M  fy^w  Pffth  UfifH 
lilt-  M'M-M*^»i  Hi  \iU  tt'fi  iiintiifht     (  :*uttfth  hnii  #«♦  tm.^fi 

»')!  Iiy  n  y"((Mj<  (ff****/ ll>^  '/M  hht**^  t-niH^,  h  fttt  *>^  w'^" 
itfi,  iIm'  nn\utn)tit>  i'^n^twh  pHt-hMtHi(  f}t^  mm*^ iH'mi^M 
14  ftitlll"    Im    »ll«(li/fl>    fljib*    /y<.'*/'>/|>^/    (-^    >rrf    tH^iA/^  f-MtH**' 

iitiil  (it(l»'*»«»  nv«'Hrtl<*'«  l/y  r^v^M-^f,  /^f  *#*'^,'|[^4  l>»f  fivwr  Mb^&** 


282 


THE  CREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


\v\ 


1c?.* 


'\m 


of  some  cheated  red  brother,  will  probably  become  a  very 
rich  man. 

From  time  to  time,  as  the  winter  camp  runs  short  of  pro- 
visions, expeditions  are  made  to  the  buffalo  grounds  to  obtain 
a  fresh  supply.  The  herds,  which  wander  far  to  the  south- 
ward in  the  fall,  strange  to  say,  return  in  the  winter  and  col- 
lect in  great  numbers  in  the  broken  country  between  the 
two  Saskatchewans,  finding  shelter  in  the  timber,  and  brows- 
ing upon  the  willows,  or  coarse  grass,  still  uncovered  by  snow. 

The  half-breeds  generally  go  to  the  winter  hunts  in  small 
parlies,  and  with  horse  or  dog-sledges  to  haul  home  the  robes. 
The  journey  thither  occupies  a  week  or  ten  days,  as  the  herds 
are  near  or  far  out.  Proximity  to  the  buffalo  grounds  is 
known  by  the  radical  change  in  the  aspect  of  the  country. 
Instead  of  an  interminable  plain,  with  an  illimitable  per- 
spective of  wrack  and  drift,  the  country  becomes  undulating, 
with  scac'ered  patches  of  small  timber  alternating  with  minia- 
ture meadows  and  grassy  levels.  Here  the  buffalo  sepa- 
rate themselves  into  small  bands,  and  often  into  twos  and 
threes,  and  find  abundant  food  beneath  the  light  snows. 
But  into  this  sylvan  retreat  come  the  hunters  with  their  dog- 
trains.  Carefully  skirting  its  border,  but  not  penetrating 
it  needlessly  to  alarm  the  herds,  they  select  their  camping- 
place  in  the  thickest  of  the  timber,  and  thence  make  pro- 
longed forays  upon  their  shaggy  game.  Aside  from  the  mere 
selection  of  the  camping-ground,  but  little  time  is  lost  in  ren- 
dering it  comfortable  ;  for  on  the  winter  hunt  the  main 
object  is  attended  to  with  a  singleness  of  purpose  that  would 


u< 


m 


A   WINTER  CAMP. 


283 


delight  the  soul  of  a  business  martinet.  But  few  fires  are 
lighted  during  the  day,  for  fear  of  frightening  the  game  ; 
so  that  the  labor  of  making  camp  is  limited  to  securing,  out 
of  reach  of  the  dogs,  not  only  the  provisions — of  which  by 
this  time  there  is  likely  to  be  but  little  left — but  snowshoes, 
harness,  and  everything  with  any  skin  or  leather  about  it. 
An  Indian  sledge-dog  will  devour  almost  anything  of  animal 
origin,  and  invariably  eats  his  own  harness  and  his  master's 
snowshoes,  if  left  within  his  reach. 

Dividing  into  parties,  the  hunters  pursue  different  direc- 
tions, endeavoring,  however,  whenever  practicable,  to  encircle 
a  certain  amount  of  territory,  with  the  object  of  driving  the 
quarry  toward  a  common  centre.  Again,  the  small  parties 
follow  the  same  plan  on  a  smaller  scale,  each  one  surround- 
ing a  miniature  meadow,  or  grassy  glade  ;  so  that,  if  the  num- 
ber of  hunters  is  large,  there  are  many  small  circles  within 
the  limits  of  the  general  circumference  of  the  hunt. 

The  winter  hunt  for  buffalo  in  the  Fur  Land  is  generally 
made  by  stalking  the  animals  in  the  deep  snow  on  snowshoes. 
To  hunt  the  herds  on  horseback,  as  in  summer,  would  be  an 
impossibility ;  the  snow  hides  the  murderous  badger-holes 
that  cover  the  prairie  surface,  and  to  gallop  weak  horses  on 
such  ground  would  be  certain  disaster.  By  this  method  of 
hunting  the  stalker  endeavors  to  approach  within  gunshot  of 
his  quarry  by  stealthily  creeping  upon  them,  taking  advantage 
of  every  snow-drift,  bush,  or  depression  in  the  prairie,  which 
will  screen  his  person  from  view.  And  it  is  a  more  difficult 
feat  to  approach  a  band  of  buffalo  than  it  would  appear  on 


[     : 


I 


284 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAiVD. 


first  thought.  When  feeding  the  herd  is  more  or  less  scat- 
tered, but  at  sight  of  the  hunter  it  rounds  atid  closes  into  a 
tolerably  conii)!Ut  circular  mass.  If  the  stalker  attempts  nil 
ojjcn  atlvance  on  foot — concealment  being  impossible  from 
the  nature  of  the  ground — the  buffalo  always  keep  sheering 
olT  as  soon  as  he  gets  within  two  hundred  yards  of  the  near- 
est. If  he  follows,  they  merely  re[)eat  the  movement,  and 
always  manage  to  jireserve  the  same  distance.  Although 
there  is  not  the  slightest  danger  in  approaching  a  herd,  it  re- 
quires, in  a  novice,  an  extraordinary  amount  of  nerve.  When 
he  gets  within  three  hundred  yards,  the  bulls  on  that  side,  with 
head  erect,  tail  cocked  in  the  air,  nostrils  expanded,  and  eyes 
that  seem  to  tiash  fire,  walk  uneasily  to  and  fro,  menacing 
the  intruder  by  pawing  the  earth  and  tossing  their  huge  heads. 
The  hunter  still  approaching,  some  bull  will  face  him,  lower 
his  1k\u1,  and  start  on  a  most  furious  charge,  lUit  alas  for 
brute  courage  !  When  he  has  gone  thirty  yards  he  thinks 
better  of  it,  stops,  stares  an  instant,  and  then  trots  back  to 
the  herd.  Another  and  another  will  try  the  same  strategy, 
with  the  same  result,  and  if,  in  spite  of  these  ferocious 
demonstrations,  the  hunter  still  continues  to  advance,  the 
whole  herd  will  incontinently  take  to  its  heels. 

By  far  the  best  method  of  stalking  a  herd  in  the  snow  is 
to  cover  oneself  with  a  white  blanket,  or  sheet,  in  the  same 
manner  as  the  Indians  use  the  wolf-skin.  In  this  way  the 
animal  cannot  easily  get  the  hunter's  wind,  and  are  prevented 
from  distinguishing  him  amidst  the  surrounding  snow.  The 
buffalo  being  the  most  stupid  and  sluggish  of  Plain  animals. 


njv 


m  ! 


A    WINTEK  CAMP. 


285 


ss  scat* 
}  into  a 
npts  an 
le  from 
ihccring 
ic  near- 
!nt,  and 
.llhough 
■tl,  it  rc- 
Whon 
clc,  with 
md  eyes 
lenacing 
re  heads, 
m,  lower 
ahvs  for 
le  thinks 
back  to 
strategy, 
erocious 
mce,  the 

e  snow  is 
the  same 

way  the 
prevented 
3VV.     The 

animals, 


and  endowed  with  the  smallest  possiMc  amount  of  instinct, 
the  little  that  he  has  seems  adapted  rather  for  pelting  him  into 
diflicnltieH  than  out  of  them.  If  not  alarmed  at  sight  or  smell 
of  the  stalker,  he  will  stand  stu|)i(lly  gazing  at  his  companions 
in  their  death  throes  imtil  the  whole  hand  is  shot  down. 

When  the  hunter  is  skilled  in  the  stalk,  and  the  buffalo 
are  plentiful,  the  wild  character  of  the  sport  almost  repays 
him  for  the  hardships  he  endures.  With  comrades  ecptally 
skillful  he  surrounds  the  little  meadows  into  which  he  has 
stalked  his  cptarry.  Well  posted,  the  hunter  nearest  the  herd 
delivers  his  fire.  In  the  sudden  stuj)id  halt  and  stare  (;f  the 
bewildered  animals  immediately  following,  he  often  gets  in  a 
second  and  third  shot.  Then  comes  the  wild  dash  of  the 
frightened  herd  toward  the  o|)ening  in  the  jj.irk,  when  the 
remaining  hunters  instantly  ai)pear,  pouring  in  their  fire  at 
short  range,  and  pretty  certain  of  securing  their  game. 

The  cutting  up  follows  ;  and  the  rapidity  with  which  a 
skillful  hunter  completes  the  operation  is  little  short  of  mar- 
velous. When  time  permits,  the  full  process  is  as  follows  : 
He  begins  by  skinning  the  buffalo,  then  takes  off  the  head, 
and  removes  the  paunch  and  offal  as  far  as  the  heart ;  next 
he  cuts  off  the  legs  and  shoulders  and  back.  The  chest,  with 
the  neck  attached,  now  remains — a  strange-looking  object, 
that  would  scare  a  respectable  larder  into  fits — and  this  he 
proceeds  to  lay  beside  the  other  joints,  placing  there  also  such 
internal  parts  as  are  considered  good.  Over  the  whole  he 
then  draws  the  skin,  and  having  planted  a  stick  in  the  ground 
close  by,  with  a  handkerchief  or  some  such  thing  fastened  to 


^  i 


286 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


it  to  keep  off  the  wolves,  the  operation  of  cutting  up  is  com- 
plete, and  the  animal  is  ready  for  conveyance  to  camp  when 
the  sledges  arrive.  The  half-breed  goes  through  this  whole 
process  with  a  large  and  very  heavy  knife,  like  a  narrow  and 
pointed  cleaver,  which  is  also  used  for  cutting  wood,  and  per- 
forming all  the  offices  of  a  hatchet  ;  but  unwieldy  as  it  is,  a 
practiced  hand  can  skin  the  smallest  and  most  delicate  crea- 
tures with  it  as  easily  as  with  a  pocket-knife. 

A  few  days'  successful  stalking  generally  supplies  a  party 
with  sufficient  meat,  and,  unless  hunting  for  robes,  they  are 
not  likely  to  linger  long  upon  the  bleak  plains  for  the  mere 
sake  of  sport.  The  winter  stalk  is  emphatically  a  **  pot-hunt," 
the  term  "  sport "  being  scarcely  pertinent  to  a  chase  involv- 
ing so  serious  discomfort.  A  cache  of  the  meat  is  accordingly 
made,  from  which  supplies  may  be  drawn  as  required.  And 
this  cache  has  to  be  made  in  a  very  substantial  manner  to  resist 
the  attacks  of  wolves,  which  invariably  hang  about  the  camp 
of  the  hunter.  Generally  speaking,  it  is  made  in  the  form  of 
a  pyramid,  the  ends  of  the  logs  being  sunk  slightly  into  the 
ground,  against  which  a  huge  bank  of  snow  is  heaped.  This, 
when  well  beaten  down,  and  coated  with  ice  by  means  of  water 
poured  over  it,  holds  the  timber  firmly  in  position,  and  is  per- 
fectly impregnable  to  a  whole  army  of  wolves,  though  a  wol- 
verine will  certainly  break  it  open  if  he  finds  it. 

At  last  comes  the  departure.  The  sledges  are  packed 
with  melting  rib,  fat  brisket,  and  luscious  tongues  ;  the  cow- 
ering dogs  are  again  rudely  roused  from  their  dream  of  that 
far-off  day,  which  never  comes  for  them,  when  the  whip  shall 


A    WINTER  CAMP. 


287 


)  IS  com- 
ntip  when 
lis  whole 
row  and 
and  per- 
is it  is,  a 
;ate  crea- 

;s  a  party 
they  are 
the  mere 
lOt-hunt," 
5e  involv- 
cordingly 
id.     And 
r  to  resist 
he  camp 
form  of 
into  the 
This, 
of  water 
id  is  per- 
h  a  wol- 

packed 
the  cow- 
1  of  that 
hip  shall 


be  broken  and  hauling  shall  be  no  more.  Amid  fierce  impre- 
cation, the  cracking  of  whips,  deep-toned  yells,  and  the  grating 
of  the  sledges  upon  the  frozen  snow,  the  camp  in  the  poplar 
thicket  is  left  behind.  The  few  embers  of  the  deserted  camp- 
fire  glow  cheerily  for  a  while,  then  moulder  slowly  away. 
The  wolves,  growing  bolder  as  the  day  wears  on,  steal  warily 
in,  and  devour  such  refuse  as  the  dogs  have  left.  As  night 
settles  silently  down,  the  snow  begins  to  fall.  It  comes  slcwly, 
in  a  whirling  mist  of  snowflakes  that  dazzles  and  confuses  the 
eye.  The  ashes  of  the  camp-fire,  mingling  with  it,  take  on  a 
lighler  grey  ;  the  hard  casing  of  the  cache  receives  a  fleecy 
covering.  Feathery  shafts  of  snow,  shaken  from  the  long 
tree-branches,  fly  like  white-winged  birds  down  over  what  has 
been  the  camp,  l^ut  all  traces  of  its  use  are  hidden  by  the 
spotless  mantle  flung  from  above.  The  coming  morning 
reveals  only  a  pyramidal  drift  of  'snow  among  the  aspens — 
around,  a  hopeless,  uncharted,  trackless  sea  of  white. 

Such  is  the  winter  stalk — a  hunt  that  has  often  formed  the 
theme  of  the  traveler's  s'.ory.  And  yet  it  may  be  doubted  if 
there  has  ever  been  placed  before  the  reader's  vision  anything 
like  a  true  account  of  the  overpowering  sense  of  solitude,  of 
dreary,  endless  space,  of  awful  desolation,  which  at  times  fills 
the  hunter's  mind,  as,  peering  from  some  swelling  ridge  or 
aspen  thicket,  he  sees  a  lonely  herd  of  buffalo,  in  long,  scattered 
file,  trailing  across  the  snow-wrapt,  interminable  expanse  into 
the  shadows  of  the  coming  night. 

Life  to  the  white  stranger  temporarily  resident  in  the  win- 
ter camp  becomes  after  a  season  pleasant  enough.     The  study 


W 

w. 

ijll 


li 


«.'! 


'i  I 


•i= 


I'll, 


288 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


of  Indian  and  half-breed  character  and  customs,  the  visits  of 
his  barbarian  neighbors,  the  exciting  incidents  of  his  every- 
day life,  all  conspire  to  relieve  the  monotony  which  would 
otherwise  hang  over  him  like  a  pall.  It  is  true  that  of  life 
other  than  human  there  is  a  meagre  supply  ;  a  magpie  or 
screaming  jay  sometimes  flaunts  its  gaudy  plumage  on  the 
meat-stage  ;  in  the  early  morning  a  sharp-tailed  grouse  croaks 
in  the  fir  or  spruce-trees ;  and  at  dusk,  when  every  other 
sound  is  hushed,  the  owl  hoots  its  lonely  cry.  Besides  human 
companionship,  however,  the  white  resident  of  the  winter  camp 
has  many  pleasures  of  a  more  £Esthetic  character.  It  is  pleasant 
at  night,  when  returning  from  a  long  jaunt  on  snowshoes  or 
dog-sledge,  to  reach  the  crest  of  the  nearest  ridge  and  see, 
lying  below  one,  the  straggling  camp,  the  red  glow  of  the  fire- 
light gleaming  through  the  parchment  windows  of  the  huts,  the 
bright  sparks  flying  upward  amid  the  sombre  pine-tops,  and 
to  feel  that,  however  rude  it  vwy  be,  yet  there  in  all  that  vast 
wilderness  is  the  one  place  he  may  call  home.  Nor  is  it  less 
pleasant  when,  as  the  night  wears  on,  the  long  letter  is  penned, 
the  familiar  book  read,  while  the  log  fire  burns  brightly  and 
the  dogs  sleep  quietly  stretched  before  it.  Many  a  night 
thus  spent  is  spread  out  in  those  pictures  which  memory 
weaves  in  after  life,  each  pleasure  distinct  and  real,  each  pri- 
vation blended  with  softened  colors. 


m 


■  '! 


Isits  of 

1  every- 
would 

;of  life 

gpie  or 

on  the 

2  croaks 
ry  other 
5  human 
ter  camp 
pleasant 
•shoes  or 

and  see, 
f  the  fire- 
hius,  the 
tops,  and 
that  vast 
r  is  it  less 
s  penned, 
.ghtly  and 
a  night 
memory 
each  pri- 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


THE   FROST    KING. 


'HP* HE  old  maps,  based  upon  the  discoveries  of  Cabot  and 
■*"  Castier,  which  represented  the  centre  of  America  as  a 
vast  inland  sea,  erred  only  in  the  description  of  the  ocean 
which  they  placed  in  the  central  continent.  The  ocean  is 
there  ;  but  it  is  one  of  grass  and  waves  of  sand,  and  its  shores 
are  the  crests  of  mountain  ranges  and  dark  pine-forests.  The 
eye  travels  over  it  to  the  farthest  distance  without  one  effort 
of  vision,  and  reaching  there,  rests  unfatigued  by  its  long 
gaze.  No  jagged  peaks  break  the  monotony  of  sky-line  ;  no 
river  lays  its  silvery  folds  along  the  middle  distance  ;  no  dark 
forests  give  shade  to  foreground,  or  fringe  the  perspective;  no 
speck  of  life,  no  trace  of  man,  nothing  but  wilderness.  Strip- 
ped of  its  drapery,  space  stands  forth  with  almost  terrible 
distinctness. 

The  salt  sea  does  not  present  a  more  infinite  variety  of 
aspect  than  does  this  prairie-ocean.  In  early  summer,  a  vast 
expanse  of  waving  grass  and  pale  pink  roses  ;  in  autumn,  too 
often  a  wild  sea  of  raging  fire  ;  in  winter  a  dazzling  surface 
of  purest  snow,  heaped  into  rolling  ridges  or  frost-crested 
waves.      The  phosphorescent  waters  of   the  ^Egean  cannot 

show  more  gorgeous  sunsets;  no  solitude  of  mid-ocean  can 

13 


Ul 


290 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


mA 


P 


'\i 


m 


vie  with  tlic  loneliness  of  a  night-shadowed  prairie.  The  still- 
ness can  be  felt,  the  silence  heard.  The  wail  of  the  prowling 
wolf  makes  the  voice  of  solitude  audible  ;  the  stars  look  down 
through  infinite  silence  upon  a  silence  almost  as  intense.  This 
ocean  has  no  past ;  treeless,  desolate,  and  storm-swept  was  it 
when  the  stone  of  the  Sphinx  was  yet  unhewn,  and  the  site  of 
Nineveh  was  a  river-meadow,  and  it  is  the  same  to-day.  Time 
has  been  nought  to  it ;  and  the  races  of  men  have  come  and 
gone,  leaving  behind  them  no  trace,  no  vestige  of  their  i)res- 
encc.  It  is  an  unending  vision  of  sky  and  grass,  and  dim, 
distant,  and  ever-shifting  horizon.  *'  The  seasons  come  and 
go,  grass  grows  and  flowers  die,  the  fire  leaps  with  tiger 
bounds  along  the  earth,  the  snow  lies  still  and  cjuiet  over  hill 
and  lake,  tJie  rivers  rise  and  fall,  but  the  rigid  features  of  the 
wilderness  rest  unchanged.  Lonely,  silent,  and  impassive ; 
heedless  of  man,  season,  or  time,  the  weight  of  the  Infinite 
seems  to  brood  over  it."  * 

To  the  unaccustomed  voyager  upon  the  great  prairies  of 
the  Fur  Land  they  bear  no  landmark.  As  well  might  he  be 
left  alone  upon  an  uncharted  sea.  There  are  spaces  where 
no  tree  or  bush  breaks  the  long  monotony  of  sky-line,  and  he 
gets  "out  of  sight  of  land,"  Standing  in  the  middle  of  the 
plain,  it  presents  the  appearance  of  an  immense  sheet  slightly 
raised  at  both  ends;  for  the  level  prairie  has  the  peculiarity 
of  seemingly  being  elevated  in  whatever  point  of  the  compass 
one  may  turn,  leaving  the  observer  always  in  the  depression. 
So  clear  is  the  atmosphere  that  the  natural  range  of  vision  is 

<^  Major  Butler,  "  Wild  North  Land," 


m 


THE  FROST  KFXG, 


39  T 


he  still- 
)rowling 
3k  down 
sc.  'I'l^'s 
pt  was  it 
lie  site  of 
ly.  Time 
::ome  and 
heir  pres- 
and  dim, 
come  and 
with  tiger 
it  over  hill 
.ires  of  the 
impassive ; 
he  Infinite 

prairies  of 

ght  he  be 
)aces  where 
ine,  and  he 
ddle  of  the 
leet  slightly 

peculiarity 
the  compass 

depression. 

of  vision  is 


greatly  extended,  and  distant  objects  may  be  clearly  and 
easily  seen  ;  which,  anywhere  elsc*,  it  would  be  impossible  to 
distinguish  or  define.  It  is  almost  like  looking  through  a 
telescope.  As  a  result,  one  finds  it  difficult  to  ascertain  the 
relative  distances  of  objects,  and  in  consecpience,  to  estimate 
their  size.  One  makes  the  blunder  of  mistaking  a  buffalo  for 
a  crow,  or,  more  frecpicntly,  a  crow  for  a  buffalo.  If  anyone 
be  inclined  to  laugh  at  this,  let  him  stand  upon  the  sea-shore 
with  a  sailor,  and  compare  their  estimate  of  distance  with  his, 
and  mark  the  difference.  The  eye  ranges  over  a  sea  of  short 
waving  grass,  without  a  single  intervening  object  to  afford  the 
accustomed  means  of  estimating  relative  «i/,e  and  distance. 

Left  to  himself,  the  inexperienced  traveler  finds  it  impossi- 
ble to  pursue  a  straight  course,  and  invariably  begins  to  de- 
scribe a  circle  by  bearing  continually  to  the  left — a  weakness 
incomprehensible  to  the  plain-dweller,  who  looks  upon  it  as 
the  most  arrant  stupidity.  Unless  he  be  an  expert  in  the  use 
of  a  compass,  the  possession  of  an  instrument  is  likely  to 
prove  of  little  avail.  If  he  take  the  sun  for  a  guide,  he  will 
find  no  theory  quite  so  fallacious  for  an  unskilled  voyager  ; 
for,  let  him  be  as  careful  as  he  will,  he  can  keep  the  sun 
in  the  position  he  requires,  and  yet  go  round  in  a  circle. 
After  one  becomes  accustomed  to  prairie  or  ocean-travel,  he 
learns  almost  intuitively  to  be  guided  by  the  sun,  and  can 
travel  by  it ;  but  it  cannot  be  learned  by  a  neophyte  in  a 
single  lesson. 

Alone  upon  the  illimitable  plain,  passing  by,  in  his  igno- 
rance of  prairie-craft,  those  numberless  milestones  to  safety 


If    ' 


K'l 


I»I. 


i 


293 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAX  P. 


wliich  make  to  the  plain-dweller  a  great  public  highway,  the 
lonely  wanderer  begins  at  length  to  realize  that  he  is  lost. 
It  dawns  upon  him  first  in  a  sense  of  absolute  bewilderment 
— a  bewilderment  so  intense  as  to  produce  for  the  moment 
an  almost  perfect  blank  in  the  mind.  He  is  incapable  of 
summoning  thought  sufficient  to  realize  anything — to  consider 
his  present  situation,  or  take  measures  for  future  action.  It  is 
an  indefinable  state  where  all  is  chaotic  ;  (juickly  succeeded, 
however,  by  an  all-pervading  terror,  which  chains  thought 
and  action  in  a  manner  nearly  akin  to  death — a  vague,  shape- 
less terror,  imagining  all  possible  horrible  things,  and  paint- 
ing mistily  and  hazily  upon  the  numbed  faculties  nameless 
miseries  yet  to  be  experienced  :  a  slow  death  by  starvation  or 
thirst  ;  exposure  to  the  devouring  elements,  or  wild  beasts  ; 
tortures  of  every  imaginable  description,  always  ending  in  a 
lingering  death  ;  and,  above  all,  never  more  to  look  upon 
a  human  face,  never  more  to  share  human  sympathy — a 
going  out  in  utter  darkness,  perfectly  alone.  Then  Despair 
joins  Terror,  adding  her  tortures  ;  and  lastly  conies  that 
all-powerful,  all-pervading  desire  for  human  companionship 
which,  blending  v/ith  the  former  feelings,  unhinges  the  intel- 
lect and  renders  the  man  insane. 

In  winter  the  dangers  of  the  prairie-ocean  deepen  and 
become  manifold.  The  deep  snows  obliterate  all  landmarks  ; 
to-day,  the  depressions  are  filled  up ;  the  ridges  levelled  ; 
it  is  a  dead  surface  of  glistening  white.  To-morrow,  the 
shifting  winds  start  the  breakers  going ;  they  come  at  first 
in  long  even  swells,  the  harbingers  of  the  storm  ;  they  break 


THE  FKOST  KING. 


293 


ay,  the 

s  lost. 
L-rment 
lomcnt 
able  of 
onsidcr 
I.     It  is 
cccdctl, 
thought 
I,  shape- 
d  painl- 
lamcless 
Mtion  or 

beasts ; 
ing  in  a 
ok  upon 
pathy — a 
\  Despair 
mes  tViat 
inionship 

the  intel- 

epen   and 
ndmarks  ; 
levelled ; 
)rro\v,  the 
ne  at  first 
hey  break 


into  short  cliopping  waves  ;  they  pile  one  upon  another  in 
tuinultU(Mis  billows  that  freeze  into  motionless  torpor.  The 
face  of  the  snowy  sea  is  never  the  same  ;  what  is  a  landmark 
to-day  is  obliterated  to-morrow.  The  peaceful  summer  scene 
that  seemed  only  wanting  the  settler's  hut,  the  yoke  of  oxen, 
the  wagon,  to  become  the  paradise  of  the  husbandman,  is 
lost  in  fierce  storm  and  tempest  and  blinding  snowdrift. 

But  there  come  calms  upon  the  prairie-ocean — days  when 
an  infinite  silence  broods  over  the  trackless  expanse,  when  the 
Mirage  of  the  Desert  plays  strange  freaks  of  inverted  shore- 
land.  It  is  the  moment  following  the  sunrise  of  such  a  day. 
A  deeper  stillness  steals  over  \'  ;  earth,  and  in  its  solemn  hush 
colors  of  wondrous  hue  rise  uiid  spread  along  the  horizon. 
The  earth  stands  inverted  in  the  sky;  the  ca[)es  and  promon- 
tories of  the  prairie-ocean  are  etched  in  deeper  lines  than 
graver  ever  drew  upon  the  blue  above  ;  the  poplar  and  aspen 
islands  which  dot  the  plain,  float  bottom  upwards,  anchored  by 
great  golden  threads  in  a  deep  sea  of  emerald  and  orange  and 
blue,  mingled  and  interwoven  together.  Dwellings  twenty  and 
thirty  miles  distant,  seem  but  a  few  rods  away  ;  the  gliding 
dog-sledges,  out  of  sight  over  the  plain,  are  transferred  to  the 
sky,  and  seem  steering  their  sinuous  courses  through  the  clear 
ether  ;  far  away,  seemingly  beyond  and  above  all,  one  broad 
flash  of  crimson  light,  the  sun's  first  gift,  reddens  upward 
toward  the  zenith.  But  every  moment  brings  a  change  ;  the 
day  gathers  closer  to  the  earth,  and  wraps  its  impassive  veil 
again  over  the  sunken  soul  of  the  wilderness. 

The  mirages  of  the  Plains  are  of  wondrous  beauty  ;  every 


mmmmmm 


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^\\|^s\\%    \\>  Uw  %w\s  \\\^\\  \\\  \\H\\s  \\w  mm  \\kHm 

\%^  wwK^^  ht%m  \s\\\  A  WW  ms\ri  \\u\m  \m\\  m\*',  m\\ 
\'*H^mN^W\s  ^¥>\Uvt^v>ySNv* KtS^w^W^'^K  m\\  y\\v\\WH\'^\\'  Ih«1 

trfi.VWt^.     Hx^  >\4yv>  W^\»^\^AV  \x\'^\V     W^  \\^^  \\\x-  mw  \\\  \\a\\ 


,k,.5h^^ 


I  si 


mmmmmmmi^mmmmmm 


m^mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm^Km^ 


Hlk  f^l^^^^i'  ^f^^ 


m 


\\m\  \\u 
\^  %  i\m\ 

\s\\\\\\W^  tit 
\\\\\\\\    \\\\\\ 


(iiiiiiiiili  '10  ii(iI()h<hI  |/M/ld^« //m  hw  fmiii  "  "*    ^'    '■"/'/^ 

\>\\>      'i    i\\'\llflll    I   lliil     ,      ■■■■,,■■      ,\\l,>   *\liU    'I   ■■   I      li..       Ii>''h        ilh't" 

m  iHd/llHHfl*'!  '  'fM  (fi    ^./  /  /I,  l/(  /f'/y"   >>h>  i'  "•'         f.  .     ?;'/!  4i'iH 
hill    llii^  ((/<■(■///.  1/     ■      |, '/ .       /(/   ihi     I'  >>   f   '/■./F    ^  , /,'    ',r'ftfif 

iliiH^M'!  !((i*i  liUiiiiiiiiiiff",  ititiii  iun,'  '>f  iitHtfgn^a  ittuHMmii^i 

In  |.' (linfHriK  ff-fcjI/iH  /fM-JN>^^(^./^/ ''•        ' 'Hflfi^f,"  -    ■     ■'ifif0f 
liH  ((''*<''H()'*'I       Me    ■.nil,  hf  itiff-'i  t       ■,       ii.ns.f.' 
Iiiil"  l(*'i», 'Mf'i  ffc   \mYi*  f"  ''^  '  nt^  iifm  19  hi^fii^ 'tf^'mii^ 

\\v  >)<•  llti'l'i^i  nil    liiiiifhi'ih     If  I     '     ',?      /.Oif,       ^ni   •Ml-.y-f .  ft'i- 
ll;tp■^  ■!•:  Ill"  H^k  mn  *¥M.\  <  n   \nii\^  h>-'    '.'  '^^A.f//p^ 

»i)iiy  liffH'lf  !<*•  HltHN^'fl^sfr'''^ /^^'J''    -      •  ■   ■^f  'jv^riv  ^^M 

IdhllCN,  illlitii)lti>,    ffr^    /','rr''    --^^   mm^  f^tMim-Mf*!*^  tfM".  '-/ 

Ml   iH'/Hf/N  i^MfriM  fl<'  tfiiiti^' of  -/''.'''fr  \Miii'«€it  IM ^ittih m4 


296 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


Ill 


'ii' 


l^i^x 


\ii 


nitude  of  the  scone  are  overpowering.  The  immensity  of 
the  dead  level  is  overwhelming.  You  are  an  atom  in  the 
gigantic  panorama  of  frozen  Nature  about  you. 

Coming  in  from  the  rarefied  atmosphere  generated  by 
sixty-seven  degrees  of  frost,  an  extended  and  sentient  fore- 
finger, pointing  in  the  direction  of  one's  nose,  instantly  in- 
forms him  of  the  frozen  condition  of  that  member.  Then 
he  recalls  the  fact  that,  fifteen  minutes  before,  a  slight  prick- 
ing sensation  was  experienced  in  the  end  of  the  nose — 
momentary,  and  in  the  hurry  of  the  instant  scarcely  noticed. 
It  was  at  that  particular  moment  that  it  had  frozen.  Had  he 
looked  oui,  or  rather  down,  he  would  have  seen  the  ghostly 
spectacle ;  for  firmer,  colder,  whiter,  and  harder  than  hard 
hearts,  stony  eyes,  marble  foreheads,  or  any  other  silicious 
similitude,  stands  forth  prominently  a  frozen  nose. 

Some  theorist  might  make  a  study  of  frozen  noses  which 
would  be  interesting.  Inference  might  be  connected  with 
inference  in  infinite  duration.  One  might  read  an  essay 
from  it  on  the  eternal  fitness  of  things,  and  history  viewed  by 
the  light  of  frozen  noses  might  reveal  new  secrets.  For 
example,  the  inability  of  the  Roman  nose  to  stand  the  rigors 
of  an  Arctic  winter  limits  the  boundaries  of  the  Roman 
empire ;  the  Esquimaux  nose  is  admirably  fitted  by  nature, 
on  account  of  its  limited  extent,  for  the  climate  in  which 
it  breathes,  hence  its  assignment  to  hyperborean  latitudes. 
This,  however,  is  by  the  way. 

One's  nose  was  frozen,  say,  in  traversing  at  a  rapid  walk 
a  distance  of  not  more  than  one  hundred  yards;  for  it  is 


n 


THE  FROST  KING. 


297 


a  "poudre"  day.  Sixty-seven  degrees  of  frost,  unaccom- 
panied  by  wind,  is  endurable  if  you  are  taking  vigorous 
exercise,  and  are  warmly  dressed ;  but  let  the  faintest  possi- 
ble wind  arise — a  gentle  zephyr,  a  thing  which  just  turns  the 
smoke  above  the  lodge-poles,  or  twists  the  feather  detached 
from  the  wing  of  a  passing  bird — then  look  out,  for  the 
chances  are  that  every  person  met  will  extend  that  forefinger 
to  mark  some  frozen  s[)ot  on  your  reddish-blue  countenance. 
This,  however,  is  the  extent  of  the  courtesy;  they  do  not 
follow  out  the  Russian  ])lan  of  rubbing  out  the  plague-spot 
with  a  handful  of  snow,  probably  out  of  deference  to  the 
limited  amount  of  attrition  most  noses  stand  without  peeling, 
A  poudre  day,  with  the  temperature  in  the  thirties  below, 
is  a  thing  to  be  spoken  of  in  a  whisper.  Not  a  soul  leaves 
the  fireside  who  can  avoid  it ;  to  wander  away  from  well- 
known  landmarks  is  to  run  the  risk  of  never  returning. 
Every  winter  half  a  score  of  men  walk  off  into  the  whirling 
particles  of  snow  and  drift,  and  the  morning  sun  finds  a 
calm  and  peaceful  face  turned  up  to  the  sky,  with  its  life 
frozen  out,  and  its  form  hard  and  unimprcssible,  as  if  carved 
from  granite.  The  early  morning  of  such  a  day  may  be  clear 
and  still ;  but  upon  close  inspection  the  atmosphere  will 
be  found  filled  with  crystal,  scintillating,  minute,  almost  im- 
perceptible particles  of  snow,  drifting  on  wings  of  air,  impal- 
pable and  fleeting.  Soon  after  daybreak  the  wind  begins 
to  rise.  Off  to  the  north  rolls  a  little  eddy  of '•now,  a  mere 
puff,  not  larger  than  one's  hand.  Another  follows ;  minia- 
ture coils  circle  over  the  smooth  surface  of  the  snow,  and 

sink  back  imperceptibly  to  the  level  again.     Drifts  of  larger 
13* 


298 


THE  QREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


\T^n- 


!'>** 


!)4    J 


Li: 


I  ti 


'I* 


M 


proportions  roll  over  the  expanse,  until  the  atmosphere 
becomes  thick  with  the  frozen  particles.  All  landmarks  are 
lost,  and  the  range  of  vision  is  limited  to  a  few  feet.  The 
wind  howls  like  a  raging  beast,  and  the  merciless  cold  con- 
geals the  very  heart's  blood.  It  is  the  sirocco  of  the  North  ! 
On  such  days  traveling  is  particularly  toilsome  and  dan- 
gerous. The  state  of  the  atmosphere  renders  respiration 
difficult,  increasing  the  action  of  the  heart,  and  producing 
a  slight  but  constant  dizziness.  All  landmarks  are  oblit- 
erated, and  unless  one  is  thoroughly  conversant  with  the 
country,  he  is  liable  to  lose  his  way,  and  be  caught  at  night- 
fall without  shelter  or  fire.  But  the  most  dangerous  phase 
of  travel  is  the  tendency  toward  inertia.  Fatigued  by  the 
least  effort,  paralyzed  by  the  cold,  perhaps  frostbitten  in 
many  places,  despite  every  precaution,  the  traveler  is  likely 
to  give  up  in  despair.  "  I  cannot  "  and  "  I  will  not "  become 
synonymous  terms.  All  effort  is  apparently  useless ;  the 
attention  is  distracted  by  the  necessity  of  fighting  continually 
to  keep  face  and  hands  free  from  frostbite ;  keeping  the 
road  in  so  blinding  a  tempest  seems  to  be  impossible ;  the 
animals  one  is  driving  face  about  in  harness,  and  refuse 
to  proceed ;  and  so,  beset  on  every  hand,  with  an  intellect 
benumbed  and  paralyzed  by  the  intense  cold,  and  a  body 
overcome  by  physical  inertia,  one  gives  up  all  effort  as  only 
adding  unnecessary  pain,  and  sits  down  to  be  bound  hand 
and  foot  by  the  final  stupor.  Five  minutes'  rest  in  some 
snowdrift  on  the  plain  is  enough,  in  certain  conditions  of 
fatigue  and  temperature,  to    paralyze    the  energies  of  the 


f- 


MlI 


m 


THE  FKOST  KING, 


299 


osphere 
jks  are 
t.     The 
)ld  con- 
North  ! 
ind  dan- 
ipiration 
•oducing 
re  oblit- 
with  the 
It  uight- 
)us  phase 
d  by  the 
bitten   in 
is  likely 
"  become 
less;    the 
jntinually 
eping  the 
5ible;  the 
nd   refuse 
intellect 
d  a  body 
)rt  as  only 
3und  hand 
t  in   some 
ditions  of 
ies  of  the 


strongest  man,  and  make  him  welcome  any  fate  if  only  let 
alone  to  take  his  ease.  We  recall  more  than  one  time  when 
we  would  have  given  all  we  possessed  simply  to  have  been 
permitted  to  lie  down  in  a  snowbank  for  ten  minutes ;  and 
left  to  ourselves,  we  should  certainly  have  done  so.  Some  of 
the  best  dog-drivers  on  the  plains  have  related  to  us  similar 
experiences,  where  the  inertia  of  a  poudre  day  on  the  prairie 
seemed  too  intense  to  be  resisted.  Persons  who  know  the 
priiirie  only  in  summer  or  autumn  have  but  little  notion 
of  its  winter  fierceness;  and  desolation.  To  get  a  true  con- 
ception of  life  these  solitudes  they  must  go  toward  the 
close  of  November  into  the  treeless  waste  ;  there,  amid  wreck 
and  tempest  and  biting  cold,  and  snowdrifts  so  dense  that 
earth  and  heaven  seem  wrapped  together  in  undistinguisha- 
ble  chaos,  they  will  see  a  sight  as  different  from  their  summer 
ideal  as  day  is  from  night. 

But,  though  not  so  dangerous,  the  still  days  are  the  cold- 
est. There  are  every  winter  a  dozen  or  more  days  so  magic- 
ally still  that  all  the  usual  sounds  of  nature  seem  to  be  sus- 
pended; whenthe  ice  cracks  miles  away  with  a  report  like  that 
of  a  cannon;  when  the  i)reaking  of  a  twig  reaches  one  like 
the  falling  of  a  tree ;  when  one's  own  footsteps,  clad  in  soft 
moccasins,  come  back  from  the  yielding  snow  like  the 
crunching  of  an  iron  heel  through  gravel ;  when  every  arti- 
ficial sound  is  exaggerated  a  hundred  fold,  and  Nature  seems 
to  start  at  every  break  in  the  intense  silence.  The  atmos- 
phere is  as  clear  as  crystal,  and  the  range  of  vision  seem? 
to  be  unlimited.     Seen  from  a  window,  from  the  cosy  limits 


1 1 


filif 


ii-^r 


■  S! 


|l'<  i 


i  i 


300 


T'/ZyE  G/iEA  T  FUR  LAND. 


of  an  nlmost  hermetically-sealed  room,  the  clear  sunshine 
and  crisp  freshness  of  the  day  appear  to  invite  one  forth  to 
enjoy  its  seeming  mildness.  But  the  native  knows  better 
than  to  venture  out.  A  fifteen  minutes'  walk  in  that  clear 
ether  is  a  fifteen  minutes'  fight  for  existence.  A  sudden 
prick  and  one's  nose  is  frozen ;  next  go  both  cheeks ;  one 
raises  his  hand  to  rub  away  the  ghastly  white  spots,  only  to 
add  his  fingers  to  the  list  of  icy  members.  Rub  as  you  will, 
run  hard,  swing  your  arms — all  to  no  purpose ;  the  little 
white  spots  increase  in  size,  until  the  whole  face  is  covered 
with  the  waxen  leprosy.  The  breath  congeals  almost  upon 
leaving  the  mouth,  and  the  icy  vapor  falls  instead  of  rising. 
Expectorate,  and  instantly  there  is  a  lump  of  ice  where  the 
spittle  fell.  Ah,  it  is  cold  beyond  belief.  The  spirit  regis- 
ters a  temperature  away  down  in  the  forties.  We  have  seen 
a  stalwart  man,  after  a  few  hours'  exposure  on  such  a  day, 
walk  into  the  room  where  every  footfall  clanked  upon  the 
floor  like  blocks  of  wood  clapping  together ;  his  feet  frozen 
solid  as  lumps  of  ice. 

On  such  a  day  one  may  stand  for  hours  in  the  snow  with 
moccasined  feet,  and  leave  no  trace  of  moisture  behind.  The 
snow  is  granulated  like  sand  ;  there  is  no  adhesiveness  in  it. 
It  is  as  difficult  to  draw  a  sledge  through  it  as  through  a  bed 
of  sand.  Slipperiness  has  gone  out  of  it.  A  horse  gives  out 
in  a  few  minutes.  And  yet  the  aspect  of  all  nature  is  calm, 
still,  and  equable  as  on  a  May  day. 

One  of  these  still  nights  upon  the  prairie  is  unspeakably 
awful.     The  cold  is  measured  by  degrees  as  much  below  the 


THE  FROST  KING. 


301 


sunshine 

forth  to 

/s  better 

lat  clear 

sudden 

eks;  one 

3,  only  to 

you  will, 

the  little 

J  covered 

ost  upon 

of  rising. 

vhere  the 

irit  regis- 

have  seen 

ich  a  day, 

upon  the 

jet  frozen 

mow  with 
lind.  The 
ness  in  it. 
lugh  a  bed 
I  gives  out 
re  is  calm, 

ispeakably 
below  the 


freezing  j)oint  as  ordinary  summer  temperature  is  above  it. 
Scraping  away  the  snow,  the  blankets  and  robes  are  spread 
down.  Then  you  dress  for  bed.  Your  heaviest  coat  is  donned, 
and  the  hood  carefully  pulled  up  over  the  heavy  fur  cap  upon 
your  head  ;  the  largest  moccasins  and  thickest  socks  are  drawn 
on  (common  leather  boots  would  freeze  one's  feet  in  a  twink- 
ling) ;  huge  leather  mittens,  extending  to  the  elbows,  and 
trebly  lined,  come  next ;  you  lie  down  and  draw  all  the  avail- 
able robes  and  blankets  about  you.  Then  begins  the  cold. 
The  frost  comes  out  of  the  clear  grey  sky  with  still,  silent 
rigor.  The  spirit  in  the  thermometer  placed  by  your  head 
sinks  down  into  the  thirties  and  forties  below  zero.  Just 
when  the  dawn  begins  to  break  in  the  east  it  will  not  infre- 
quently be  at  fifty.  You  are  tired,  perhaps,  and  sleep  comes 
by  the  mere  force  of  fatigue.  But  never  from  your  waking 
brain  goes  the  consciousness  of  cold.  You  lie  with  tightly- 
folded  arms  and  upgathered  knees,  and  shiver  beneath  all 
your  coverings,  until  forced  to  rise  and  seek  safety  by  the  fire. 
If  you  are  a  novice  and  have  no  fire,  count  your  beads  and 
say  your  prayers,  for  your  sleep  will  be  long. 

This  low  temperature,  however,  is  vastly  preferable  to, 
and  more  enjoyable  than  the  shifting  climate  of  the  lake 
regions.  One  always  knows  just  what  to  expect,  and  prepares 
accordingly  ;  and  we  doubt  whether  the  feeling  of  being  cold 
all  through  is  not  experienced  on  the  levee  at  New  Orleans  as 
intensely  as  in  the  North.  The  air  is  crisp  and  entirely  free 
from  moisture,  and  there  is  an  utter  absence  of  that  penetrating, 
marrow-chilling  quality  which  makes  winter  life  further  south 


■^p 


302 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


m 


IhA  ^ 


«w» 


\X 


H 


t  ».» 


.'■i 
'* 


?:'?! 


i'5'j 


iii 


a  burden.  No  sudden  changes  pile  cold  upon  cold,  and  keep 
one's  lungs  in  a  continual  congestion.  The  climate,  while 
cold,  is  equable.  From  November  till  April  one  knows  that 
he  can  never  go  out  without  abundant  wrappings.  Just  what 
constitutes  an  abundance  varies  considerably  in  amount.  The 
native  attires  himself  in  a  pair  of  corduroy  trousers,  a  calico 
shirt,  an  unlined  coat,  very  much  open  at  the  breast  to  show 
the  figured  shirt,  a  fur  cap,  moccasins,  and  a  pair  of  duffel 
socks  without  legs.  Thus  appareled,  he  is  ready  to  face 
all  day  the  roughest  weather  of  the  winter.  But  then  he 
is  continually  in  motion,  and  possessed  of  an  unimpaired 
circulation.  The  foreigner,  not  to  go  into  the  minutiae  of  his 
wardrobe,  simply  puts  on  all  the  clothing  he  can  conveniently 
walk  in,  then  closely  watches  the  end  of  his  nose.  As  for 
the  aboriginal  occupants  of  the  country,  little  Indians  may 
be  seen  any  daj  running  about  in  the  snow  before  the  lodge- 
doors,  with  the  thermometer  thirty  degrees  below  zero,  clad 
only  in  their  own  tawny  integuments. 

The  effect  of  the  interminable  winter  landscapes  of  the 
Fur  Land  upon  the  mind  of  the  new-comer  is  melancholy  in 
the  extreme  ;  more  especially  upon  the  still  days,  and  where 
an  occasional  dwelling  or  tent  is  embraced  in  the  desolate 
scene.  No  wind  breaks  the  silence,  or  shakes  the  lumps 
of  snow  off  the  aspens  or  willows  ;  and  nothing  is  heard  save 
the  occasional  cracking  of  the  trees,  as  the  severe  frost  acts 
upon  the  branches.  The  dwelling,  if  any,  stands  in  a  little 
hollow,  where  the  willows  and  poplars  are  luxuriant  enough  to 
afford  a  shelter  from  the  north  wind.     Just  in  front  a  small 


THE  FROST  KING. 


303 


and  keep 
te,  while 
lows  that 
fust  what 
jnt.    The 
;,  a  calico 
t  to  show 
of  duffel 
^  to  face 
then  he 
^impaired 
tiae  of  his 
iveniently 
.     As  for 
dians  may 
the  lodge- 
zero,  clad 

>es  of  the 
incholy  in 
ind  where 
e  desolate 
:he  lumps 
leard  save 
:  frost  acts 
in  a  little 
enough  to 
3nt  a  small 


path  leads  to  the  river,  of  which  an  extended  view  is  had 
through  the  opening,  showing  the  fantastic  outlines  of  huge 
blocks  and  mounds  of  ice  relieved  against  the  white  snow. 
A  huge  chasm,  partially  filled  with  fallen  trees  and  mounds  of 
snow,  yawns  on  the  left  of  the  house  ;  and  the  ruddy  sparks 
of  fire  which  issue  from  its  chimney-top  throw  this  and  the 
surrounding  forest  in  deeper  gloom.  All  around  lies  the 
unending  plain,  wrapped  in  funeral  cerements  of  ghastly 
white,  or  dotted  here  and  there  with  slender  trees,  which 
seem  to  bend  and  shiver  as  they  stand  with  their  feet  in  the 
snow. 

With  the  advent  of  a  "  blizzard,"  however,  all  still  life 
ends  and  chaos  begins.  A  blizzard  is  the  white  squall  of  the 
prairies,  the  simoon  of  the  plains.  Like  its  brother  of  the 
Sahara,  when  it  comes  all  animate  nature  bows  before  it. 
The  traveler  prostrates  himself  in  the  snow,  if  he  is  of  the 
initiated,  and,  covering  his  head,  waits  until  it  passed  by. 
To  pursue  a  different  course,  and  journey  on  is  to  be  lost. 
Let  me  give  you  an  instance  which  may  serve  to  illustrate  its 
power,  and  the  dangers  of  travel  in  the  Fur  Land  : 

In  the  month  of  February,  1869,  I  was  called  by  urgent 
business  from  my  residence  near  the  foot  of  Lake  Winnipeg 
to  an  interior  post,  distant  some  two  hundred  and  fifty  miles. 
This  call  involved  no  ordinary  journey.  It  meant  a  weary, 
exhaustive  travel  of  ten  or  twelve  days  across  an  unbroken 
prairie,  without  shelter  of  any  kind,  without  the  probability 
of  encountering  a  single  human  being  throughout  the  entire 
route,  and  the  almost  certainty  of  being  overtaken  by  some  of 


W'.J 


304 


T//£.  GREA  T  FUR  LAND, 


the  terrible  storms  prevalent  at  that  season.  But  the  call 
was  imperative,  and  I  set  about  preparing  for  the  journey. 

The  preparations  were  of  a  primitive  sort,  there  being  but 
two  methods  of  travel  admissible  at  that  season — the  one  by 
dog-sledges,  the  other  with  horses  attached  to  light  carioles. 
The  outfit  embraced  a  combination  of  the  two  by  the  selection 
of  a  commodious  dog-sledge,  with  trams  in  which  to  place  a 
horse  for  myself,  and  a  light  cariole  for  my  companion  ;  for 
attendant  I  must  have  over  that  desolate  route.  Choosing  a 
stalwart  half-breed,  accustomed  to  the  rough  life  of  the 
prairies,  and  inured  to  all  manner  of  hardship  from  infancy, 
we  started  one  bitterly  cold  day  toward  the  end  of  the  month. 

In  the  forward  conveyance  was  placed  provisions  for  our- 
selves and  provender  for  the  animals,  while  my  own  sledge 
was  comfortably  furnished  with  the  huge  bundle  of  robes  and 
blankets  requisite  for  our  comfort  and  even  safety  in  camp. 
Into  this  shoe-like  sledge  I  fondly  hoped  to  creep  and  glide 
smoothly  to  my  journey's  end.  But  the  intensity  of  the  cold 
soon  disenchanted  me  of  that  illusion  ;  for  we  had  proceeded 
but  a  few  miles  when  I  was  forced  to  take  to  my  feet  and  run 
after  the  sledge  to  avoid  being  frozen.  Even  then  the  severity 
of  the  cold  was  such  that,  when  jumping  on  the  sledge  for  a 
momentary  respite,  on  reaching  the  ground  again  my  blood 
would  r.eem  frozen,  the  muscles  refuse  to  act,  and  it  would 
require  a  sharp  trot  of  a  mile  or  more  before  I  could  recover 
usual  warmth. 

Our  rate  of  travel  was  about  twenty-five  miles  a  day. 
The  route  pursued  was  that  commonly  taken  by  the  voyagcurs 


the  call 
ney. 
;ing  but 
one  by 
carioles. 
election 
I  place  a 
on  ;  for 
oosing  a 
of  the 
infancy, 
e  month, 
for  our- 
n  sledge 
Dbes  and 
in  camp, 
ind  glide 
the  cold 
oceeded 
and  run 
severity 
ge  for  a 
ly  blood 
it  would 
recover 

a   day. 


'oyagcurs 


|il) 


TI/E  FHOST  KING. 


305 


in  their  summer  trips,  and  in  many  of  our  proposed  camping- 
places  the  fuel  had  been  exhausted  to  supply  the  numberless 
trains  which  had  come  and  gone  in  the  years  before.  This 
necessitated,  at  times,  continued  travel  for  an  entire  day  with- 
out stopping. 

At  night,  we  descended  the  banks  of  the  river,  ])itching 
our  camp  upon  the  second  terrace,  in  some  spot  equally  con- 
venient to  wood  and  water.  Then,  making  an  excavation  in 
the  snow,  logs  would  be  heaped  up,  until  our  fire  was  suffi- 
ciently large  to  afford  a  genial  warmth  throughout  the  night. 
Our  sledges  turned  across  the  head,  and  blankets  spread 
upon  the  snow,  formed  a  bed  into  which,  with  caps  and  over- 
coats on,  we  were  at  all  times  ready  to  creep. 

Thus  we  journeyed  on,  until  the  closing  of  the  seventh 
day  brought  us  to  the  crossing  of  Elm  River,  a  small  stream 
upon  our  route. 

The  day  had  been  warmer  than  any  experienced  since 
starting.  In  the  afternoon  the  snow  had  melted  sufficiently 
to  wet  our  moccasins  thoroughly,  and  by  its  softness  to 
impede  our  travel  ;  so  that  the  distance  made  had  not  been 
so  great  as  on  other  days,  while  the  fatigue  and  discomfort 
had  been  greater.  During  the  day  we  had  fallen  in  with  a  Mr. 
Wheeler,  a  gentleman  from  Montana,  with  whom  I  had  been 
previously  acquainted  ;  a  man  of  huge  and  burly  physique^ 
capable  of  immense  endurance.  He  was  journeying  in  our 
direction,  having  come  up  on  the  mail-sled  the  day  before,  and 
gladly  availed  himself  of  an  invitation  to  encamp  with  us 
for  the  night.     It  being  nearly  dark  on  our  arrival  at  the 


I:  i 


3o6 


rilE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


wi  m 


w.<^  ? 


1*3 


r*r— 


river,  we  did  not  think  it  necessary  to  build  a  fire,  both 
on  account  of  the  warmth  of  the  evening,  and  the  quality 
of  the  fuel,  of  which  we  were  unable  to  find  any  except  wet, 
green  elm,  hardly  ignitable.  So,  having  eaten  a  cold  supper, 
we  set  about  our  preparations  for  the  night. 

Elm  River,  like  all  prairie-streams,  is  narrow  and  runs  in 
a  channel  much  below  the  surface  of  the  plain,  having,  in 
consequence,  high  banks,  which  in  most  cases  are  precipitous 
but  on  this  stream  sloped  back,  with  only  moderate  abrupt- 
ness, to  the  level  prairie.  It  was  on  the  farther  bank  that  we 
selected  our  place  of  rest  for  the  night,  without  shelter,  of 
course,  but  sufficiently  below  the  level  to  be  out  of  the  sweep 
of  the  wind,  as  we  thought.  The  half-breed  and  myself 
had  for  bedding  four  large  buffalo-robes  and  four  blankets  ; 
and  our  custom  was  to  spread  one  robe  and  a  blanket  under 
us,  and  use  the  remainder  as  covering.  The  amount  under 
was  sufficient,  owing  to  the  snow  preventing  the  cold  reach- 
ing us  from  the  earth,  and  rather  increasing  the  amount 
of  heat  than  otherwise.  Mr.  Wheeler  had  two  robes  and 
two  blankets.  We  lay  with  our  feet  toward  the  stream,  Mr. 
Wheeler  placing  himself  immediately  across  the  head  of  our 
bed — if  so  I  may  call  it — wrapped  in  his  own  bedding, 

I  am  thus  minute  in  the  description  of  our  positions  and 
bedding,  in  order  to  more  thoroughly  impress  the  rei:'.a.?r  with 
the  intensity  of  the  storm  which  followed. 

It  was  about  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  when,  afte'  taking 
off  our  wet  shoes,  we  retired,  with  overcoats  and  caps  on, 
as  customary.     The  sky  at  that  time  exhibited  no  extraordi- 


A 


TJIE  FROST  KING. 


307 


re,  both 

quality 

ept  wet, 

.  supper, 

I  runs  in 
aving,  in 
icipitous 
e  abrupt- 
k  that  we 
,helter,  of 
the  sweep 
id   myself 
blankets  ; 
ket  under 
Lint  under 
Did  reach- 
amount 
robes   and 

ream,  Mr. 

ad  of  our 

ing. 

iitions  and 

ead-^r  with 

US:-'   taking 
i  caps  on, 
extraordi- 


nary appearance,  and  the  temperature,  if  any  thing,  indicated 
snow.  Being  fatigued  with  the  labors  of  the  day,  I  was  soon 
asleep,  and  did  not  awaken  until  about  half-past  nine  o'clock, 
when  I  was  aroused  by  the  tossings  of  Mr.  Wheeler  in  his 
efforts  to  adjust  his  bedding  more  comfoii  ihly.  I  observed 
that  it  had  grown  colder,  and  that  a  sharp  wind  had  sprung 
up,  which  seemed  to  come  down  the  channel  of  the  stream 
instead  of  across  it,  as  we  had  anticipated  in  the  selection 
of  a  camp.  However,  having  the  guide  on  the  windward 
side,  I  thought  but  little  of  it,  and  was  soon  asleep. 

I  awoke  again,  as  near  as  I  can  judge,  in  about  an  hour 
and  a  half  ;  this  time  from  a  general  sensation  of  cold  which 
enveloped  me.  I  found  both  my  companions  awake,  on  speak- 
ing to  them,  and  that  Mr.  Wheeler  had  been  unable  to  sleep 
at  all,  owing  to  the  cold,  as  he  lay  with  his  head  to  the  wind, 
and  could  not  prevent  it  from  entering  under  the  covering. 
It  was  blowing  a  perfect  gale,  and  the  air  was  so  filled  with 
whirling  particles  of  snow  that  we  could  not  distinguish  our 
animals  at  the  distance  of  a  few  yards.  From  that  time  for- 
ward it  was  impossible  to  sleep.  We  did  every  thing  we  could 
devise  to  ward  off  the  cold,  and  the  half-breed  seemed  espe- 
cially anxious  that  I  should  not  suffer  ;  covered  me  with  care, 
and  shielded  me  as  much  as  possible  with  his  own  person.  But 
the  chill  seemed  to  have  taken  complete  possession  of  me.  I 
could  not  restrain  my  desire  to  shake  and  shiver,  although 
knowing  that  it  augmented  the  difficulty.  For  a  time  we 
conversed  on  the  severity  of  the  storm,  and  our  error  in  not 
having  built  a  fire,  but  gradually  relapsed  into  silence  ;  each 


It* 


tWA'  rt'A^^'.O*  ^t^A*  U>Vh. 


It 

k 
It 

1$ 


(i^vW  \\\u\\\  M\\\  »  hill  iH  bhH  nl  ht*h  \t'l,  I  luul  lut  IVtII', 
\NV  thi^wnht  v\r«^yit  1Vt'oyil^^<n»lrrttl»,  \)\\  \\\\\\  \u\\\\\  I  «|(it|tlv 
ifV^Wit^^^  UN  *l\i\TV  \\l\Ul  m»^H\h\^  \\\\\\\\\  \\\\v  \\<x  \\\))\\  'iwWhU'W^ 
\i\  \\\\\\\\  rt  l\^t*.  11U'  \S\\\\\\,  \\\\\W\^\i  \Vrt«  M\\lit»hl»illlv  hilllr, 
ThiNW^'^l  \^V\  !f(M^Vy  m\\\vv\  \Vt\n  VrU  \i\ltl  HHtl  tlhlllKl  I 
\ryNSrm)vv  h^  hrtW*  »itn'<M\«^<!  h  UrIhM  i^^i^hl  hi  "irv^Mhl  *(n)i|tM'ln 

\^t  \\\rVti\^^\\  M\x\  v\S\\\\vt'K\  \\\{\\\\\  \\v\'vm\\\  Us  NUsldlh  llt<', 
!S^x\  h>  tW  MUWMliMtnl  r»M\yl\\UM\  y\\  {\\v  l»»t\(\\  \\\\\\v\  lh»'  SIllTol- 
(>Sji  AV\«^U^H  tV.M\\  lV*  \W\\\.      l.\»  M    ihli^n  WhHl'll'lU  i\htl  (llMllMfl, 

\  thxN\^ht  vwvv  th'»  hwnim^M  \  \\t\%  upoH,  tnul  whiillrtl  the 
»Sx^v^Mly  «vy  xv»m<\rt»s\\>\\  m\<>kt»  u\  \\\i\  t^-  t«Mu  hinl  \m  n*»mly 

Alt  thl\M\}i)N   this  OV\tx'V  SUV»j\rt  o(    ll\n\l^^l\».  |(o\vi'\iM.  IJHMl' 

T«^  j^n  ^>W\^<ni\nv  \Nt"  siWVovinji.  \  \Ni<s  i  oum  ious  nl  mowing 
iSf^^H';  my  hmh^  os|HV\rtU>\  tolt  moiv  \'\\\\\  nml  hortvy.  I 
be^n  aW  hx  ov^vvuM^*^  j\  |HM'uUrtr  xowsfUiow,  m  if  tlu'  llonli, 
ty>T  tW  tif^vih  \>f  a  v^uAvUM  ov  hrtU  !U\  \\m\  wrts  fto/t'n  Roliii, 
a*K^  t>»o  \\M\j5x\-*'mont  gT.ivturtllv  oxlomhi^^  to  tho  Ihm\o.  'I'hc 
Kvft^*  it!j!cW  «t  tim;^s  iVh  like  a  »vrl-l\ivi  Uar.  I  luUiccil,  fiulhrr, 
4itt  iihMXNfts<\^  UK>r  in  the  Iv.iting  o(  \\\c  luwit,  (U\il  louM 


iffh  tffti.H'  ktisfd 


n) 


|\i'  nitlh  mH 

lUl   HM    h'tU, 

H  ol  mowing 
i«  \\\\>  lU'«l>, 
howo.     '''l»C 


hMiihl  fh^l  lh(>  |i|mm(I  ««'f'iiHlH(itly  f»H)l?''  »(('•  '•/*/!  ^tf  f^^^  v^lhf* 
(llltl  Mllj'flhM  IM  llu*  f-xl^^Hild^n  Mil**  tiUftH^UiifjituiUttitti 
rt  mII((IiI  »llfrliif't<^  IH  111*'  ||«<(</I  rtf(/l  rt  itiUiitUiHH  h'n^ihniUm.  /!# 
lllHh  tVHfil  Hii(  flit'  to^diHllMH  of  fiiitfttt'f'fttfin^ltipi,  Mff^N^fM  ^/y 
llif  lnii(j(  Hf  ihc  i(M(l  ,  liiiii  (My  lUiiu^/JiiH  (itt^  ^Mn  HititiH-it'df 
I  IuimwImm  l>f((i(hM(ly  (mm  mtiip-n  in  «t(*f<H'^,  rtf/^<  untt«m)H% 

♦  liiMM  In  IMV  '(tVM  •«(llffH((|4«<,  I  MoU/  Hf^  filffh^tniOth^  ihhi  ihtf 
luilf  l»^^•^•()  M(M()<('  (HMH-  ('^^"'((('•hllv  tUtid  hffntc^  rtfiti  nhfff/M  mti 

H»*«*imlH|i!illv  Mill)  1  IdCl  Uit  fl(M<(^,ft>  ii\  (\tiU^t-f,  nttfl  Misft 
\ii\\^\\N\  ((I  Ml.  W(l^f•l^^  MfrJHlfnl/*^,  "  M^^f,  uihti,  t  ii^UH^a 
I  Mill  flc«'^iti()  Im  «|c)(I|«  f  " 

tldH'fVci,  (lii»lttj<  lliN  w)(ol^  frf-fl^/^l  nf  iwh  hoiftn  nt  tfUttt  i 
I'Miiltl  iinl  iKcv^'iil  !»  \im\\um\  iih\vt<fhi^  ntH\  nhnVw^.  1  ##^ 
»1frtv(th>(l   Ni'Vt'hd   HmM'h   ht  tntiifiii   wy  tinvt-n  ufiti   tMtin\fi 

♦  |(lU'lly  III  uHm  \im\\hiu,  li«((  vfi^hiiui  n^/n'ii,  At  ihtt  ¥.fiA  f/f 
IhttI  li(M««  I  i(*(li(»'(l  M»«t  (  wrtJi  (yH:^//f!i)f»JOM)^C^/ J  htti t  whih 
l»liy«it  ally  hh,  my  iiuw)  wnn  »»uff«?f)ttj{  ttiottfi  My  whok  i/ku 
wiiM  It*  ^(■(  w/ifi»i.    My  l/'<'fy  ^rtn  (:<M  nU  tf^t^f  -^m/^^n  'mi 

I  fell,  In  (IM  i(|M((l  (l(|ill(  iff  <'V*"ry  (/l«r^'.  f  /|tffy^  (Vt%¥.fitim^ 
((llll|llllli(MI  In  lilt'  V«(M  l«0|;«'  of  ittO(]lH  Htf(  Uiffff  w»fmth^      ffh, 

If  f  I  oiiltl  ffhly  )4»'l  wiitiu  »n»'iu  I  f  f>;ll!  thnt  t  ffrtiUI  w'fU'm^f 
IhiiI'I  t'Vffy  iMiflhly  prjMi'ssi'/fi  fo  fie  wnttp.  f  «V/rf^!  ?/t<- 
Icily  of  nil)  Mil|/«l(|j'  ritti-U-nnutnn  in  no*  >/t,'  :'">ti  ».  ftfe  the 
evt'iiing  |ir«'vioii«,  nm]  nf  iht>  yty  i^  ^t\M  <««  t//  »ft  1i>eif/fe 
mirli  l»liizinn  fires  ««(  we.  lui'l  on  f»ij(>y4^  »//•'  fme.  ff  f  *jfny\ 
only  Kf'l  wnrni  (ixftin  !  Was  there  fi<A  ««?5'r  way  m  ityuh  we 
cotiM  Kct  to  a  fire  ?    ConM  not  tfie  half-l.teed  )/uM  eme  1    If 


ll 


il 


^:}  'i 


m 


m 


i  J 


310 


T//E  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


he  would  only  try,  I  would  give  him  anything  ;  nothing  was 
too  dear  ^f  I  could  only  feel  warm.  There  was  a  particular 
room  in  my  brother's  house,  with  a  large  open  fireplace  in  it. 
If  it  were  only  evening,  and  we  were  gathered  about  a  bright, 
cheerful  fire,  how  nice  and  warm  I  could  get !  One  some- 
times goes  into  an  hotel  sitting-room  in  winter,  and  they  have 
a  huge  box-stove,  made  to  take  in  cord-wood  whole.  What 
a  genial  waimth  and  heat  there  is  !  What  a  glow  there  is 
over  the  entire  room  !  Oh,  if  I  could  only  get  warm  like 
that ! 

I  would  be  aroused  at  times  out  of  thoughts  like  these  by 
my  companion,  who  now  took  to  pushing  me,  and  constantly 
warning  me  against  falling  asleep.  Mr.  Wheeler,  also,  was 
continually  talking  of  his  freezing,  and  assured  us  both  that 
his  ears  were  already  frozen. 

For  the  first  time  I  really  became  conscious  of  the  danger 
we  were  in.  Strange  to  say,  it  had  no  effect  upon  me.  I  felt 
no  alarm  at  the  possibility  of  being  overtaken  by  death,  I  was 
so  cold — if  I  could  only  get  warm  again  !  This  was  the  bur- 
den of  my  thought.  Yet  I  was  fully  conscious  of  the  danger. 
I  knew,  if  death  overtook  me,  in  exactly  what  shape  it  would 
come.  And  I  knew,  furthermore,  that  I  had  already  passed 
through  the  first  stage,  and  was  nearly  through  the  second. 
Still,  with  this  well-defined  knowledge  of  what  was  before  me, 
I  was  totally  indifferent  to  the  pangs  of  death.  I  only  wanted 
to  be  warm  ;  I  felt  that  in  some  way  I  must  get  \/arm.  I 
thought  over  the  prospect  of  a  speedy  death  indifferently. 
There  was  no  trouble  about  the  future  at  all — I  did  not  think 


lU, 


THE  FROST  KING. 


Ill 


ing  was 
irticular 
ce  in  it. 
X  bright, 
e  so'-ne- 
ley  have 
;.     What 
there  is 
arm  like 

these  by 
;onstantly 

also,  was 
both  that 

he  danger 
bie.     I  felt 
ath,  I  was 
IS  the  bur- 
he  danger, 
e  it  would 
xdy  passed 
le  second, 
before  me, 
nly  wanted 
\*'arm.     I 
differently, 
d  not  think 


of  it.     The  physical  suffering  and  stupor  were  too  great  to 
admit  of  it. 

Twice  before  in  my  life  I  had  been  in  momentary  expec- 
tation of  death  ;  and  one  experience  of  the  horrors  of  dissolu- 
tion was  the  same  as  this.  That  was  a  case  of  dangue  fever. 
While  perfectly  conscious  in  the  last  moments — 'old  they  were 
my  last,  and  asked  if  I  was  prepared  to  undergo  them — I  felt 
the  same  sensaiion  as  here  ;  if  I  were  only  comfortable,  I 
would  willingly  go.  I  knew  a  gentleman  once  who  told  me 
that,  when  in  a  similar  situation — on  the  point  of  death — his 
only  feeling  was  one  of  hunger  ;  no  thought  or  fear  for  the 
futur..  ;  ^11,  if  only  his  appetite  could  be  satisfied.  But  how 
ditif  f  *  h'^t  other  i^xperience,  when  calleu  upon  to  face 
death  :n  full  bodily  vigor  !  The  terrors  which  encompassed 
me  ire  indescribai>'e. 

Con'.ir.'ing  in  t^  e  consciousness  of  danger,  and  yet  think- 
ing only  of  my  suffering  .:nd  desire  to  become  warm,  after  the 
lapse  of  an  hour,  probably,  I  began  to  get  warm — that  is,  the 
sensation  was  one  of  warmth  and  comfort,  but  was  in  reality, 
a  species  of  numbness.  I  felt  my  flesh  in  several  places, 
and  it  produced  a  prickly,  numb  feeling,  similar  to  that 
experienced  when  u,  .''^'b  is  asleep.  I  was  comfortable 
and  happy,  becar  .e  *  •  ur;  waim,  and  grew  indignant  with 
my  companion  t>^^  M  unv.earied  thumps  on  my  body, 
and  the  continual  ivis-'^-rs  'le  required  to  his  questions;  I 
wanted  to  oe  let  alone.  I'uUy  conscious  that,  if  I  went  to 
sleep  I  vould  never  awaken  again,  I  was  perfectly  willing 
to   go   asL^ep.      Even   then    I   remember   thinking   of   poor 


312 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND, 


% 


n  ii 


ii 


travelers,  lost  in  the  snow,  being  brought  in  l)y  St,  Hcrnard 
dogs. 

But  I  was  warm,  and  laughed  silently  at  Mr.  W-heeler's 
complaints  of  freezing.  I  paid  no  further  attention  to  the 
shakings  of  my  companion  or  his  (|UL*stions,  but  gathered  my- 
self up,  and  lay  thinking  how  comfortable  I  was.  Pretty  soon 
I  began  to  doze,  then  to  awaken  suddenly,  when  T  received  a 
more  severe  blow  than  usual.  Then  1  awoke  to  see  the  half- 
breed  sitting  up  and  bending  eagerly  over  my  face,  and  hear 
a  few  muttered  words  to  Wheeler-- -ind  then  a  sense  of  com- 
fort and  oblivion. 

Now  I  was  dead.  Sensibility  had  "-  tc.  It  was  evident 
that  1  would  suffer  no  more.  In  thirty  or  forty  minutes,  an 
hour  at  farihest,  my  body  would  die.     Then  what  ? 

That  I  should  awaken  with  a  bright  fire  before  me,  and  be 
wrapped  in  robes  and  blankets,  seemed  the  most  natural  thing 
in  the  world  to  me.  For  the  matter  of  that,  it  appeared  to 
me  that  when  I  had  fallen  asleep  I  had  anticipated  just  such 
a  consummation  of  things,  and  it  was  fully  half  an  hour  before 
I  began  in  the  least  to  comprehend  that  any  thing  out  of  the 
ordinary  channel  had  occurred.  True,  I  knew  in  a  vague 
and  indistinct  way  that  the  half-breed  was  talking  of  Mr. 
Wheeler  being  lost,  but  the  matter  seemed  to  be  no  affair  of 
min",  and  created  no  surprise.  I  looked  at  him  chafing  my 
arms  and  legs,  and  simply  felt  that  it  was  quite  right  and 
natural  that  it  should  be  so. 

Gradually,  however,  I  regained  consciousness  sufficiently 
to  understand  that,  finding  me  fast  freezing,  and  impossible  to 


THE  FKOST  KING. 


313 


Ikrnard 

^-heeler's 
n  to  the 
LTcd  my- 
L'tty  soon 
sceivcd  a 
the  half- 
and  hear 
L'  of  com- 

LS  evident 
Inutcs,  an 

le,  and  be 
ural  thing 
peared  to 
just  such 
)ur  before 
)ut  of  the 
I  a  vague 
ig  of  Mr. 
o  affair  of 
hafing  my 
right  and 

Hift'iciently 
possible  to 


arouse,  he  had  gone,  at  the  imminent  risk  of  his  own  hfe, 
some  three  hundred  yards  farther  down  the  stream,  and,  find- 
ing a  dry  and  partially  rotten  log,  had  built  a  fire  ;  had  then 
returned  to  find  me  totally  unconscious,  and  to  carry  me, 
rol)es  and  all,  to  the  fire.  The  few  words  he  had  addressed 
to  Mr.  Wheeler  l)efore  leaving  me  showed  that  he,  too,  was 
fast  lapsing  into  the  same  state,  and,  when  I  was  carried  in 
safety  to  the  fire,  had  returned  to  find  Mr.  Wheeler  gone — 
having,  evidently,  awakened  from  his  stupor  sufficiently  to 
realize  that  he  was  alone,  and  to  wander  off,  half  frenzied,  in 
search  of  us. 

These  facts  being  at  last  imjjressed  upon  my  mind  by  the 
excited  and  voluble  half-breed,  I  urged  him  to  renew  the 
seach  for  our  lost  companion  ;  but  he  jjositively  refused.  He 
explained  that,  in  doing  what  he  had  already  done,  he  had 
jeopardized  his  own  life,  and  had  frozen  both  hands  and  feet 
considerably  ;  that,  while  paid  to  care  for  me,  he  had  nothing 
to  do  with  Mr.  Wheeler.  He  urged  that,  if  he  left  the  bank 
of  the  stream,  he  was  likely  to  be  lost,  the  snow  at  once  ob- 
literating all  trace  of  his  tracks.  I  ordered  him  to  go,  begged 
him  to  go,  but  without  avail.  An  offer  of  five  golden  sove- 
reigns met  with  a  like  refusal.  At  length,  I  told  him  that,  if  he 
would  find  Mr.  Wheeler,  dead  or  alive,  I  would  give  him  a 
good  horse.  For  this  consideration  he  went.  In  twenty  min- 
utes he  returned,  leading  the  unfortunate  man,  badly  frozen, 
whom  he  had  found  running  wildly  about  in  a  circle  on  the 
prairie.  He  was  kept  from  the  fire  with  some  difficulty,  until 
his  hands,  feet,  and   face,  were  thawed  out  with   water,  but 


pf. ' 


m 

if; 


i  > 


.,'f 


3H 


T^iY^  ^i?^'^  T  FUR  LAND. 


did  not  recover  his  mind  until  six  hours  after.  From  frequent 
personal  observation,  I  am  led  to  believe  that  nearly  every 
one  who  freezes  to  death  upon  the  prairies,  or  elsewhere,  be- 
comes insane  before  death.* 

Having  been  thoroughly  warmed  and  recruited  by  a 
steaming-hot  breakfast,  we  followed  the  river  to  avoid  losing 
our  way,  and  in  the  afternoon  reached  a  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany's post.  Here  we  were  informed  that  the  temperature 
had  fallen,  during  the  previous  night,  to  forty-five  degrees 
below  zero  !  We  remained  in  that  hospitable  shelter  for  two 
days,  during  which  the  terrific  storm  raged  with  unabated 
fury.  Some  dozen  Indians  and  h  i^f-breeds  peiished  upon 
the  route  over  which  we  had  just  p.vssed, 

After  this  lapse  of  time,  I  rctp.ll  my  thoughts  and  feelings 
with  much  more  distinctness  and  ac  cu'-acy  than  I  could  for 
some  time  immediately  subsequent  to  the  events  related.  No 
one  who  has  passed  through  great  danger  realizes  fully  the 
extent  of  it  at  once.  It  requires  time  to  impress  the  memory 
with  all  its  circumstances.  What  my  feelings  were  at  this  un- 
expected preservation  from  the  dreadful  fate  which  threatened 
m  ,  it  is  impossible  to  express. 

*  I  have  had  five  cases  of  freezing  to  death  brought  under  my  personal 
observation.  In  every  instance  the  subject  gave  indubitable  indications  of 
insanity  before  death,  and  in  every  case  exliibited  it  in  the  same  way — by 
casting  off  his  clothing  and  wandering  away  from  it.  One  subject  was 
entirely  nude,  and  distant  fully  a  mile  from  the  last  article  of  clothing  he 
had  discarded. 


frequent 
rly  every 
here,  be- 

;d  by  a 
)id  losing 
Jay  Com- 
iperature 
;  degrees 
:r  for  two 
unabated 
led  upon 

i  feelings 
could  for 
ted.  No 
fully  the 
i  memory 
-t  this  un- 
lireatened 


ny  personal 
dications  of 
le  way — by 
subject  was 
clothing  he 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

A    HALF-BREED    BALL. 

T)EING  invited  to  attend  a  ball  at  the  residence  of  M. 

-L'  Pierrette  Pirouette,  in  the  parish  of  St.  Francois 
Xavier,  given  in  honor  of  the  betrothal  of  his  daughter  Pau- 
line, I  am  anxiously  expectant  of  its  delights  for  the  inter- 
venient  three  days. 

I  draw  a  mental  picture  of  the  daughter  Pauline,  by  sur- 
mounting the  customary  attire  of  the  country  with  a  softened 
shade  of  her  progenitors'  features,  and  inserting  an  additional 
intensity  into  the  blackness  of  her  eye.  I  conceive,  further- 
more, the /^;/f<f  of  the  now  matrimonially  moribund  maiden, 
in  black  corduroys,  moccasins,  and  sky-blue  capote.  His 
features  are  clearly  cut  in  the  aboriginal  mould,  and  he 
smokes  perennial  haroiige  in  a  pipe  with  a  china  bowl.  I 
also  portray,  in  my  mental  picture-gallery,  the  manner  of  their 
courtship,  in  which  the  fond  maiden,  whose  brothers  are 
given  to  the  chase,  succumbs  to  deeds  of  desperate  daring 
performed  on  the  hunting-field  by  the  youth  of  her  choice, 
who  is  likewise  nomadic  in  his  habits. 

In  anticipation,  I  depict  the  contents  of  my  friend  Pier- 
rette's larder;  and,  reveling  upon  the  marrow-fat  of  the 
bison,  and  the  nose  of  the  moose,  perform  gastronomic  feats 
upon  the  basted  ribs  of  the  antelope,  worthy  of  a  Patagonian. 


li.u  f 


316 


T//E  GRf:A  T  FUR  LAND. 


I  even  mentally  congratulate  the  blushing  Pauline  upon  the 
discrimination  displayed  in  her  choice,  and  am  repaid  by 
thanks  expressed  in  a  composition  of  four  languages.  I  also 
express  my  sense  of  approval  to  the  bridegroom  expectant, 
and  am  at  once  invited  to  imbibe.  In  effect;  I  am  afflicted 
with  a  species  of  mental  phantasmagoria  until  the  eventful 
day  arrives,  and  brings  reality  in  the  shape  of  the  dog-sledge  • 
with  its  attendant  driver,  which  is  to  convey  me  over  the 
twenty-four  miles  of  prairie  intervening  between  my  resi- 
dence and  the  scene  of  festivities. 

I  place  the  archives  of  the  consulate,  committed  to  my 
care  by  a  confiding  Government,  under  the  guardianship 
of  an  intelligent  half-breed;  who,  not  knowing  the  difference 
between  a  certified  invoice  and  a  passport,  is  more  than  likely 
to  describe  the  first  comer  in  want  of  a  copy  of  the  latter  as 
a  carcajou. 

As  affairs  of  this  description,  in  this  northern  climate, 
are  likely  to  continue  for  the  space  of  three  or  more  days, 
it  behooves  to  make  preparations  commensurate  with  the 
duration  of  my  stay  ;  and  I  accordingly  place  a  small  quantity 
of  "  renewed  woolen  "  in  a  receptacle  borrowed  for  that  pur- 
pose. I  dress  in  the  habiliments  of  rejoicing  usually  worn 
upon  occasions  of  this  nature,  and  find  myself  encased  in  a 
fine-cloth  capote  of  cerulean  hue,  and  ornamented  with  brass 
buttons  ;  black-cloth  trousers,  supported  by  a  variegated  sash, 
the  fringed  ends  of  which  hang  about  the  knees  in  a  bewil- 
dering manner. 

Being  unable  to  control  the  canine  specimens  attached  to 


A  HALF-BREED  BALL. 


317 


ipon  the 
:paid  by 
I  also 
cpectant, 
afflicted 
eventful 
)g-sledge  • 
over  the 
my  resi- 

ed  to  my 
rdianship 
difference 
lian  likely 
latter  as 

climate, 
ore  days, 
with  the 
1  quantity 
that  pur- 
lally  worn 
ased  in  a 
writh  brass 
;ated  sash, 
I  a  bewil- 

ttached  to 


my  sledge  with  any  degree  of  satisfaction  to  myself,  I  surren- 
der all  authority  in  that  matter  to  the  copper-visaged  driver 
of  dogs  running  at  my  side.  I  find,  at  the  outset,  considera- 
ble difficulty  in  retaining  an  equilibrium,  owing  to  the  peculiar 
structure  of  the  sledge,  and  the  constant  lurching  from  side 
to  side  which  it  affects  ;  and  am,  on  one  or  two  occasions, 
precipitated  into  snow-banks  from  which,  such  is  the  internal 
arrangement  of  the  sledge,  I  am  unable  to  extricate  myself, 
and  am,  in  consequence,  dragged  along  face  downward,  until 
the  driver  restores  me  to  a  perpendicular  position. 

During  the  progress  of  the  drive  I  observe  that -my  attend- 
ant appears  intimately  acquainted  with  every  passer-by,  and 
invariably  addresses  each  as  his  brother.  I  am  at  a  loss  to 
discover  the  necessity  of  so  general  a  recognition  of  relation- 
ship, until  I  ascertain  it  to  be  the  current  coin  of  courtesy  in 
his  grade  of  society.  My  attendant  has,  furthermore,  a  play- 
ful manner  of  addressing  his  dogs  in  relays  of  profanity,  dis- 
creetly veiled  by  being  delivered  in  the  heathen  tongues  ; 
and,  entertaining  a  special  hatred  of  his  wheel-dog,  he  flicks 
him  constantly  with  the  sharp  thongs  of  his  whip.  There  is, 
also,  an  implicit  faith  on  his  part  in  my  ability  to  understand 
the  dialects  of  the  Six  Nations,  and  he  addresses  me,  from 
time  to  time,  in  any  one  which  his  fancy  may  dictate. 

I  become  gradually  more  accustomed  to  the  motion  of  the 
sledge,  but  am  still  possessed  with  a  vague  sense  of  insecurity, 
until  the  half-breed  seizes  the  rope  at  the  end  of  the  convey- 
ance, which  he  uses  as  a  rudder.  I  am  next  seized  with  the 
idea  that  my  attendant — who  is  running  at  the  rate  of  six 


H 


'4, 


318 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAXD. 


miles  an  hour,  in  his  efforts  to  keep  up  with  the  dogs — not 
being  endowed  with  the  constitution  of  a  government  mule, 
may  by  some  possibility  become  short  of  wind,  and  leave  me 
to  accomplish  the  remainder  of  the  distance  alone  ;  but  am 
soon  reassured  by  the  sublimated  state  which  his  profanity 
attains. 

On  reaching  the  house,  I  am  discharged  from  the  sledge 
by  some  occult  process  known  to  the  driver,  and  experience 
the  sensation  of  having  been  packed  away  in  a  case,  and 
taken  suddenly  out  to  be  aired. 

The  ya^d  surrounding  the  house,  and  the  reception-room, 
are  already  crowded  by  my  host's  relatives  and  invited  friends, 
who  are  walking  promiscuously  about,  and  talking  in  an  hila- 
rious manner.  When  my  benumbod  limbs  have  become  suf- 
ficiently supple  to  effect  an  entrance,  I  am  at  once  surrounded 
by  the  guests,  who  give  expression  to  their  delight  in  a  variety 
of  ways,  and  conduct  me  to  an  adjoining  chamber,  beseech- 
ing me  to  enter  and  disrobe,  and  be  refreshed.  Encompassed 
as  I  am,  it  is  no  easy  matter  to  reach  the  apartment,  where  I 
find  my  host,  surrounded  by  discarded  raiment  and  bottles, 
standing  in  state. 

After  the  first  greetings  are  over,  and  I  have  swallowed 
the  fiery  compound  provided  for  the  inner  man,  I  pause  to 
take  a  mental  note  of  the  surroundings.  I  observe  that  my 
host  appears  already  in  some  measure  overcome  by  the  labors 
of  reception,  and  is  arrayed  in  garments  of  a  bewildering 
variety  of  color,  his  hair  ornamented  by  one  solitary  feather. 
My  host's  relatives  are  making  themselves  useful  as  far  as  lies 


A   HALF-BREED  BALL. 


319 


)gs — not 
nt  mule, 
leave  me 
but  am 
profanity 

le  sledge 
cperience 
case,  and 

ion-room, 
d  friends, 
n  an  hila- 
come  suf- 
irrounded 
1  a  variety 
,  beseech- 
;ompassed 
t,  where  I 
id  bottles, 

swallowed 
;  pause  to 
that  my 

the  labors 
ewildering 
,ry  feather. 

far  as  lies 


in  their  power,  and  are  endeavoring  to  renew  their  exhausted 
energie?  by  frequently  bearing  away  the  empty  bottles  into  an 
adjoining  room  to  be  refilled.  I  remark  that  all  the  apart- 
ments are  thick  with  smoke.  There  is  a  continuous  series  of 
applications  to  a  box,  placed  upon  a  chair,  containing  a  mix- 
ture of  cut  tobacco  and  the  bark  of  the  grey  willow,  and  the 
odor  arising  therefrom  is  of  an  extremely  pungent  and  aro- 
matic nature.  Of  furniture  in  the  house  there  is  none  worth 
mentioning  ;  furniture  in  this  latitude  being  represented  by  a 
few  stools,  dea\  tables,  and  wooden  trunks.  I  note  that  the 
female  portion  of  the  assembly  are  distributed  about  in  posi- 
tions of  charming  freedom  ;  some  sitting  on  the  laps  of  the 
male  guests,  others  surrounding  the  male  necks  with  their 
arms,  and  yet  others  laughing  and  chatting  with  a  sweet,  in- 
constant air  among  themselves. 

I  remark  that  the  guests,  of  both  sexes,  are  of  varied 
shades  of  color,  from  the  clear,  deep  copper,  to  the  delicate 
blond,  but  that  all  possess  the  same  unvarying  black  hair  and 
eyes.  Furthermore,  the  language  spoken  is  polyglot,  being 
an  admixture  of  French,  English,  and  several  Indian  dialects. 
Well  as  I  am  acquainted  with  myself,  I  am  amazed  at  the  con- 
summate hypocrisy  I  display  in  assuming  an  intimate  acquaint- 
ance with  them  all,  when  my  rascally  driver  has  given  it  out 
as  an  indisputable  fact. 

At  this  point  I  become  conscious  that  the  bewitching 
Pauline,  fairest  of  maidens,  is  regarding  me  with  a  fixed  stare. 
At  my  request,  her  venerated  progenitor  presents  me,  when 
she  kisses  me  upon  the  cheek.     Being  reminded  of  biblical  as 


320 


THE  GREAT  FUR  LAXD. 


\  «<; 


well  as  French  custom  on  this  point,  I  at  on(  e  turn  the  other 
cheeiv,  which  she  salutes  in  a  like  manner.  As  I  do  not  ob- 
serve that  she  blushes,  or  that  her  father  objects,  I  conclude 
it  to  be  one  of  the  customs  of  the  country,  and  am  inwardly 
rejoiced  at  the  bliss  which  is  yet  in  store. 

Mademoiselle  Pauline  introduces  me  to  her  betrothed,  a 
dark  youth,  with  the  straight  features  of  the  aboriginal,  who 
seems  rather  overcome  with  his  felicity,  and  talks  feelingly  to 
me  of  sa  petite  Pauline,  and,  on  my  congratulations,  over- 
whelms me  with  proffers  of  service. 

I  note  that  the  conviviality  of  the  guests  is  only  inter- 
rupted by  the  accession  of  a  new  arrival ;  that  the  females 
smile  sweetly  upon  him,  and  the  men  play  about  him  in  a 
boisterous  manner.  The  new  arrival  is  surrounded  as  I  have 
been,  and  conducted  into  the  chamber  of  robes  and  refresh- 
ments, where  his  conductors  join  him  in  festive  libations  to 
his  health.  This  excites  a  spirit  of  emulation  among  the 
guests,  and  each  arrival  is  accompanied  by  an  increased  num- 
ber of  ushers,  who  strive  to  do  him  honor.  It  is  further  pro- 
ductive of  an  excited  and  affectionate  state  of  feeling  ;  the 
females  are  hugged  more  frequently  and  thoroughly,  and  cer- 
tain exuberant  spirits  betray  an  inclination  to  cut  pigeon-wings 
without  a  musical  accompaniment. 

The  betrothed  of  Pauline  comes  to  me,  and  talks  earnestly 
and  incoherently  of  son  ange  de  son  cocur,  and  clings  to  my 
buttons  with  charming  familiarity. 

I  am  inducted  by  the  gushing  Pauline  into  the  depths  of 
the  back-kitchen,  to  pay  my  respects  to  her  mother,  with 


l»       >*»      T 


'I 


A    HALF-BREED    BALL. 


33" 


he  other 
not  ob- 
;onclude 
inwardly 

rothed,  a 
nal,  who 
jlingly  to 
ns,  over- 

ily  inter- 
e  females 
him  in  a 
as  I  have 
d  refresh- 
lations  to 
mong  the 
ised  nuni- 
rther  pro- 
ing ;  the 
,  and  cer- 
eon-wings 

earnestly 
ngs  to  my 

depths  of 
ither,  with 


whom  I  have  a  previous  acquaintance.  She  receives  me  with 
cordiality,  and  embraces  me  with  a  knife  and  fork  in  her 
hands,  which  endanger  the  safety  of  my  visual  organs  to  an 
alarming  extent.  I  am,  however,  appeased  by  an  osculatory 
per  ice  on  both  cheeks,  which  would  have  been  infinitely 

more  agreeable  coming  from  her  daughter.  I  am  assured  of 
the  excellence  of  the  repast  to  be  served,  by  the  delicious 
odor  arising  from  thr  kettles,  and  from  the  numerous  spits 
turning  slowly  before  the  huge  fireplace,  and  of  its  prospec- 
tive extent,  by  the  joints  of  bison,  and  the  multiplicity  of 
smaller  game  displayed  upon  the  dresser. 

I  am  reminded  of  there  being  "  a  time  to  dance,"  by  the 
gathering  of  the  guests  in  the  apartments  devoted  to  that 
exercise,  and  by  the  tuning  up  of  a  mangy  and  enervated 
violin  "hich  produces  a  sensation  on  the  tympanum  not  un- 
like 'ing  of  a  saw.  The  musician,  too,  seems  to  suffer 
from  a  chronic  attack  of  St.  Vitus's  dance,  confined  to  the 
head,  and  thumps  monotonously  upon  the  floor,  with  mocca- 
sined  feet,  keeping  time  to  his  music. 

A  festively-attired  youth,  with  intensely  Indian  features, 
proceeds  to  call  off  the  measures  of  the  dance,  in  a  corrup- 
tion of  the  musical  language  of  la  belle  France.  The  dances 
do  not  partake  of  the  nature  of  the  dreamy  waltz,  or  the  mild 
mazourka,  but  rather  of  the  wild  eccentricities  of  the  jig  and 
physical  labor  of  the  reel.  The  volatile  half-breed  requires 
something  vigorous  and  exciting  in  his  amusements.  The 
disciples  of  Terpsichore,  male  and  female,  take  positions  upon 

the  floor,  and,  after  a  preliminary  courtesy,  start  off  in  the 
14* 


% 


J'  ' 


\i  .1 


322 


T//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND, 


jig  ;  the  remainder  of  the  guests  looking  on  with  admiring 
eyes.  After  a  few  minutes,  a  young  man  jigs  across  the  floor, 
and  usurps  the  place  of  the  first  performer,  and  the  female  is 
shortly  relieved  by  another  of  her  sex,  who  is  soon  superseded 
by  yet  another.  So  it  continues,  until  all  the  company  have 
taken  turns  upon  the  floor.  I  am  matriculating  for  a  stoic, 
yet  confess  to  irreverent  laughter  at  the  trembling  forms  of 
the  dancers,  who  perform  with  a  nervous  energy  and  excite- 
ment that  is  indescribable. 

At  times  there  is  an  evident  desire  exhibited  by  the  favor- 
ite performers  to  test  the  capacity  of  their  legs  and  the  sound- 
ness of  their  wind,  by  earnest  efforts  to  dance  each  other  down. 
On  these  occasions  the  audience  become  intensely  sympathetic, 
and  encourage  their  favorite  champion  by  words  of  superla- 
tive endearment.  I  hear  my  neighbor  apostrophizing  the  lady 
thus  :  "  Oh,  my  little  dear  !  what  legs  you  have  got  !  You  are 
entirely  too  much  for  that  little  frog !  When  you  are  done, 
you  shall  have  a  drink,  my  daughter  !  Ah,  holy  Moses,  what 
power !  what  endurance  !  You  could  outrun  the  deer,  mon 
mignon  !  Well,  will  you  kvin,  ma  bichctte  ?  Sucre !  you  are 
down,  eh  !  " 

Then  come  the  reels,  performed  by  six  or  eight  danc;rs, 
who  circle  about  in  an  energetic  way,  and,  when  exhausted, 
retire  and  give  place  to  others.  There  is  no  cessation,  save 
when  the  artist,  wielding  the  instrument  of  Paganini,  signifies 
to  the  parched  condition  of  his  throat  by  becoming  ?lower  in 
his  touch. 

As  the  dance  continues,  the  excitement  grows  more  in- 


I  admiring 
s  the  floor, 
e  female  is 
Hiperseded 
ipany  have 
for  a  stoic, 
ig  forms  of 
md  excite- 

the  favor- 
the  sound- 
ther  down, 
mipathetic, 
of  superla- 
ng  the  lady 
!  You  are 
u  are  done, 
loses,  what 
:  deer,  mon 
e!  you  are 

;ht  dancsrs, 
exhausted, 
sation,  save 
ni,  signifies 
ig  slower  in 

'G  more  in- 


A  HALh-BREED  BALL. 


323 


tense,  and  the  civilized  and  heathen  dialects  are  more  inex- 
tricably mixed  up.  The  performers  are  unwearied  in  their 
efforts,  and,  when  forced  to  retire  from  the  field,  are  covered 
with  perspiration.  I  am  convinced  of  the  uemocratic  nature 
of  the  assembly,  by  seeing  my  uncivilized  ririver  of  dogs  em- 
braced in  the  number  of  the  dancers.  But  it  is  becoming 
infectious. 

I  am  seized  with  a  desire  to  join  in  the  Terpsichorean 
maze,  and,  finding  Pauline,  I  plunge  into  the  intricacies  of  a 
reel.  I  am  no  match,  however,  for  that  matrimonially- 
inclined  young  woman,  and,  after  a  few  turns,  find  myself 
swinging  off  at  a  tangent,  like  the  loose  finger  of  a  compass. 
I  am  alarmed  at  the  complicated  machinery  I  have  set  going, 
but  am,  ere  long,  swung  off  to  a  wooden  chest  by  the  excited 
Pauline,  v.-ho  exhibits  some  inclination  to  encamp  on  my 
knees.  That  being  a  weak  point  in  my  anatomy,  I  forego 
the  pleasure  by  sliding  quickly  to  the  end  of  the  box,  upon 
which  the  enthusiastic  maiden  sits  down  solidly. 

I  discover  that  the  gyrations  of  the  dance  have  produced 
a  dizziness  about  ;\e  head,  and  a  nausea  in  the  stomach,  to 
which  I  am  unaccustomed.  As  it  increases,  I  "  swear  off  " 
dancing,  and  devote  my  talents  to  observation  and  pleasant 
chats  with  my  friend  Pierrette.  Employed  in  this  manner, 
I  fail  for  some  time  to  note  the  greasy  mouths  and  fingers  of 
many  of  the  guests.  When  I  do  so,  and  the  consciousness 
dawns  upon  '^  e  that  these  are  certain  indications  of  supper, 
I  at  once  retire  to  the  depths,  registering  a  vow  to  partake  of 
every  dish  upon  the  table. 


riMI 


324 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


W'^\ 


'i'f 


'1, 1 


r 


\i». 


41- 


I  am  assured  that  the  engaged  Pauline,  and  her  fair  sis- 
ters, do  not  feed  alone  upon  ambrosia,  from  Avitnessing  their 
prowess  with  knife  and  fork  at  table.  What  the  delicate  sex 
of  civilization  would  think  of  such  an  exhibition  of  carnivo- 
rous appetite,  is  beyond  my  penetration.  The  viands  consist 
wholly  of  meats,  flanked  by  wheaten  cakes,  baked  in  the 
ashes. 

My  vis-a-vis  announces  the  termination  of  his  meal,  by 
asking  the  maiden  whom  he  attends  whether  she  is  full  (!) 
She  replies  that  she  is  full.  Imitating  their  example,  I  return 
to  the  ballroom  in  a  gorged  and  semi-dormant  condition. 

The  dance  still  continues  with  unabated  vigor,  although 
now  well  toward  morning.  I  note,  however,  the  mysterious 
disappearance,  from  time  to  time,  of  the  dancers,  who  reap- 
pear  at  unexpected  intervals  with  a  certain  frouzy  air,  which, 
nevertheless,  quickly  disappears  under  the  excitement  of  the 
dance.  Impelled  by  curiosity,  I  pursue  a  retreating  form, 
and  am  led  to  a  distant  part  of  the  mansion,  where  I  find, 
stretched  out  upon  the  floor,  the  recumbent  forms  of  the  miss- 
ing guests.  From  time  to  time,  as  many  as  are  requisite  to 
keep  up  the  festivities,  are  awakened  ;  and,  being  forthwith 
revived  with  raw  spirits,  join  in  the  dance  with  renewed  vigor. 
Passing  another  apartment,  I  catch  a  glimpse  of  the  female 
guests  enjoying  a  similar  siesta,  and  thus  learn  how  the  affair 
is  continued  for  so  long  a  period. 

On  arising  in  the  morning,  I  am  astonished  to  find  the 
dancers  of  the  previous  night  replaced  by  an  entirely  new  set. 


^ 


fair  sis- 
ng  their 
icate  sex 
carnivo- 
,s  consist 
1  in  the 

meal,  by 
s  full  (!) 
,  I  return 
tion. 
although 
lysterious 
vho  reap- 
ir,  which, 
;nt  of  the 
ing  form, 
re  I  find, 
the  miss- 
quisite  to 
forthwith 
ved  vigor, 
lie  female 
the  affair 


3  find  the 
y  new  set, 


^  HALF-BREED  BALL. 


325 


of  more  mature  age  and  aspect,  who  have  dropped  in  to  bear 
the  burden  of  the  festivities  during  the  day.  On  the  approach 
of  night:  again,  however,  the  former  set  resume  their  places, 
and  thus  it  continues  for  a  number  of  days. 

After  three  days,  I  make  my  adieus  to  the  pleasant  family, 
and  am  whirled  back  to  civilization  by  my  demoralized  driver 
of  dogs,  fully  satisfied  with  my  experience  of  a  half-breed 
Indian  ball. 


Il'  * 


1 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A   WOOD-    INDIAN      TRADE. 


TTROM  the  latter  part  of  October,  when  the  hunters  and 
■*-  trappers  take  advances  for  the  winter's  hunt,  to  the 
latter  part  of  March,  when  the  season's  catch  of  fur  begins 
slowly  to  come  in,  but  few  indications  of  life  are  visible  about 
the  isolated  trading-posts  of  the  company  scattered  through- 
out the  Fur  Land.  Through  the  deep  snow,  drifted  within 
the  stockades  in  fantastic  outlines,  narrow  paths  are  cut. 
Occasionally  a  shivering  figure  hurries  from  one  building  to 
another,  but  for  the  most  part  they  are  deserted  ;  and,  except 
for  the  light  smoke  curling  from  the  chimney-tops,  one  might 
fancy  the  small  collection  of  houses  but  a  series  of  snow- 
drifts, shaped  by  the  shifting  winds  into  a  weird  but  transient 
likeness  to  human  habitation.  As  the  spring  approaches, 
however,  the  hibernal  torpor  which  has  influenced  a  large 
portion  of  the  trading  population,  gives  way  to  the  active  life 
generated  by  the  vigorous  prosecution  of  the  fur-trade. 

Toward  the  latter  end  of  March,  or  the  beginning  of  April, 
the  Indian  trappers  leave  their  hunting-grounus,  and  make  a 
journey  to  the  fort  with  the  produce  of  their  winter's  toil. 
Here  they  come,  marching  through  the  forest,  a  motley 
throng  ;  not  men  only,  but  women  and  children  and  dogs,  of 


A    WOOD-INDIAN  TRADE. 


327 


titers  and 
t,  to  the 
Lir  begins 
ble  about 
through- 
ed  within 
are   cut. 
uilding  to 
id,  except 
3ne  might 
of  snow- 
transient 
proaches, 
3  a  large 
active  life 
de. 

of  April, 
id  make  a 
iter's  toil, 
a  motley 
d  dogs,  of 


all  ages  and  condition  ;  each  dragging  sleds,  or  hand-tobo- 
gans,  bearing  the  precious  freight  of  fur  to  the  trading-post. 
The  braves  march  in  front,  too  proud  and  too  lazy  to  carry 
anything  but  their  guns,  and  not  always  doing  even  that. 
After  them  come  the  squaws,  bending  under  loads,  driving 
dogs,  or  hauling  hand-sleds  laden  with  meat,  furs,  tanned 
deer-skins,  and  infants.  The  puppy  dog  and  the  inevitable 
baby  never  fail  in  Indian  lodge  or  cortege.  The  cheering 
spectacle  of  the  two,  packed  together  on  the  back  of  a  wo- 
man, is  not  of  infrequent  occurrence  ;  for  in  the  Fur  Land 
wretched  woman  often  bears  man's  burden  of  toil  as  well 
as  her  own.  The  unwilling  dog  also  becomes  a  victim,  and 
degenerates  into  a  beast  of  burden,  either  drawing  a  sledge,  or 
a  loaded  travaille. 

Fifty  or  one  hundred  miles  away  from  the  nearest  fort  the 
minks  and  martens  of  the  Indian  trappers  have  been  cap- 
tured. Half-a-dozen  families  have,  perhaps,  wintered  to- 
gether, and  they  all  set  out  for  the  fort  in  company.  The 
dogs  and  women  are  heavily  laden,  and  the  march  through 
the  melting  snow  is  slow  and  toilsome.  All  the  household 
goods  have  to  be  taken  along.  The  black  and  battered 
kettles,  the  leather  lodge,  the  axe,  the  papoose  strapped  in 
its  moss-bag,  the  two  puppy  dogs  not  yet  able  to  care  for 
themselves,  the  snowshoes  for  hunting,  the  rush  mats,  the 
dried  meat ;  all  together  it  makes  a  big  load,  and  squaw  and 
dog  toil  along  with  difficulty  under  it.  Day  after  day  the 
mongrel  party  journeys  on,  until  the  post  is  reached.  Then 
comes  the  trade. 


!i 


Pi/ 


328 


THE  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


The  trapping  or  wood-Indian  not  being  considered  a  dan- 
gerous customer,  the  gates  of  the  post  are  freely  thrown  open 
to  him.  Accompanied  by  his  female  following,  bearing  the 
burden  of  fur,  he  marches  boldly  into  the  trading-room.  Here 
the  trader  receives  him,  and  proceeds  at  once  to  separate  his 
furs  into  lots,  placing  the  standard  valuation  upon  each  pile. 

The  company  has  one  fixed,  invariable  price  for  all  goods 
in  each  district,  and  there  is  no  deviation  from  the  schedule. 
Any  Indian  to  whom  particular  favor  is  meant  receives  a 
suitable  present,  but  neither  gets  more  for  his  furs,  nor  pays 
less  for  his  supplies,  than  the  tariff  directs.  In  the  southern 
portion  of  the  territory,  which  forms  the  great  battle-ground 
between  the  company  and  free-traders,  the  Indians  receive 
many  presents  to  keep  them  true  to  their  allegiance.  Espe- 
cially is  this  true  with  the  most  expert  trappers,  who  often 
get  articles  to  the  value  of  fifty  or  sixty  skins  (upwards  of 
$35  in  value),  and  the  ordinary  hunters  receive  large  presents 
also.  In  the  North,  however,  where  the  company  is  all-pow- 
erful, and  rules  its  subjects  with  a  mild  and  equitable  sway, 
presents  are  only  made  in  exceptional  cases.  The  company 
reserve  a  very  narrow  margin  of  profit,  so  narrow,  indeed, 
that  on  certain  staple  articles  there  is  an  absolute  loss.  In 
the  Missouri  country,  some  years  ago,  when  several  rival 
companies  existed,  the  ^selling  price  of  goods,  as  compared  to 
their  cost  price,  was  about  six  times  greater  than  that  fixed 
by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Company's  general  tariff. 

And  yet  their  total  profits  are  so  enormous  that  it  has  been 
deemed  advisable,  from  time  to  time,  to  hide  the  truth  by 


A    WOOD.INDIAN  TRADE, 


329 


ed  a  dan- 
Dwn  open 
aring  the 
)m.  Here 
)arate  his 
ach  pile, 
all  goods 
schedule, 
sceives  a 

nor  pays 

southern 
le-ground 
s  receive 
e.  Espe- 
/ho  often 
pwards  of 
;  presents 
3  all-pow- 
ble  sway, 

company 
V,  indeed, 

loss.  In 
sral  rival 
npared  to 
that  fixed 

has  been 
truth  by 


nominal  additions  to  the  capital  stock.     Of  two  hundred  and 
sixty-eight  proprietors  there  \^rere,  in  July,  1858,  one  hundred 
and  ninety-six  who  had  purchased  at  two  hundred  and  twenty 
to  two  hundred  and  forty  per  cent.     In  the  hostilities  between 
the  French  and  English  from  1682  to  1688  they  lost  ;^i  18,014, 
yet  in  1864  a  dividend  of  fifty  per  centum,  and  in   1869  one 
of  twenty-five  per  centum,  were  paid.     The  capture  of  for- 
tresses by  the  French  at  intervals  between  1662  and  1697  cost 
them  ;^97,ooo.     Yet  soon  after  the  peace  of  Utrecht  they 
had  trebled  their  capital,  with  a  call  of  only  ten  per  centum 
on  the  stockholders.     No  wonder  that  in  those  days,  and  for 
long  after,  a   Hudson's  Bay   share   was   never   long   in    the 
market. 

For  a  very  evident  reason— that  of  the  goose  and  golden 
eggs— the  price  paid  for  furs  is  not  in  strict  accordance  with 
their  intrinsic  value.  If  it  was,  all  the  valuable  fur-bearing 
animals  would  soon  become  extinct,  as  no  Indian  would  bother 
himself  to  trap  a  cheap  fur  when  a  high-priced  one  remained 
alive.  The  hunter  may  possibly,  in  the  remote  northern 
regions,  have  to  pay  five  silver-fox  skins  for  his  pair  of  three- 
point  blankets,  worth  there  about  fifteen  dollars,  the  value  of 
the  skins  paid  representing  two  hundred  dollars  ;  but  he  can, 
if  he  likes,  buy  the  same  article  by  paying  for  it  in  muskrat 
red-fox,  or  skunk-skins  of  inferior  worth.  In  the  early  days 
of  the  trade,  before  the  facilities  for  transportation  were  as 
perfect  as  now,  the  price  of  merchandise  far  exceeded  that  of 
the  present  time. 

We  have  been  credibly  informed  that  when  Fort  Dunve- 


Ill' 


i'< 


\k 


330 


TffJS  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


gan,  on  Peace  River,  near  the  Rocky  Mountains,  was  first 
established,  the  regular  price  of  a  trade-musket  was  Rocky 
Mountain  sables  piled  up  on  each  side  of  it  until  they  were 
level  with  the  muzzle.  The  sables  were  worth  in  England  at 
least  fifteen  dollars  apiece,  and  the  musket  cost  in  all  not  more 
than  five  dollars.  The  price  of  a  six-shilling  blanket  was  in 
a  like  manner  thirteen  beavers  of  the  best  quality,  and  twenty 
of  a  less  excellent  description.  At  that  time  beaver  were  worth 
eight  dollars  a  pound,  and  a  good  beaver  would  weigh  from 
one  to  one  and  three-quarter  pounds.  Gradually  the  Indians 
began  to  know  better  the  value  of  a  musket  and  of  their  furs, 
and  to  object  most  decidedly  to  the  one  being  piled  along- 
side the  other,  which,  report  goes,  was  lengthened  every  year 
by  two  inches.  Finally  a  pestilent  fellow  discovered  silk  as  a 
substitute  for  the  napping  of  beaver  hats,  and  that  branch  of 
the  trade  declined. 

Lest  an  erroneous  impression  of  the  profit  made  on  the 
trade-musket  by  the  company  may  be  gained,  however,  it  may 
be  well  to  state  that  because  the  flint-gun  and  the  sable  pos- 
sess so  widely  different  values  in  the  world's  markets,  it  does 
not  necessarily  follow  that  they  should  also  possess  the  same 
relative  values  in  the  Fur  Land.  Seven  years  often  elapse 
after  the  trade-musket  leaves  the  company's  warehouses  in 
London  before  it  returns  to  the  same  place  in  the  shape  of 
sable.  It  leaves  England  in  the  con>pany's  ship  in  June,  and 
for  one  year  lies  within  the  walls  of  York  Factory,  on  Hudson's 
Bay  ;  one  year  later  it  reaches  Red  River  ;  twelve  months 
later  again  it  reaches  Fort  Simpson,  on  the  Mackenzie  River; 


A    WOOD.INDIAN  TRADE. 


331 


,  was  first 
vas  Rocky 
they  were 
!)ngland  at 
1  not  more 
ket  was  in 
nd  twenty 
vere  worth 
•eigh  from 
le  Indians 
their  furs, 
ed  along- 
ivery  year 
i  silk  as  a 
branch  of 

de  on  the 
Tr,  it  may 
■able  pos- 
ts, it  does 

the  same 
en  elapse 
houses  in 

shape  of 
June,  and 
Hudson's 
e  months 
sie  River; 


there  it  is  turned  into  sable  within  the  year,  and  returns  to 
London  in  three  years,  following  the  same  route  over  which 
it  came.  That  old  rough  flint-gun,  whose  bent  barrel  the  In- 
dian hunter  will  often  straighten  between  the  limbs  of  a  tree 
or  in  the  cleft  of  a  rock,  has  been  made  precious  by  the  long 
labor  of  many  men  ;  by  the  trackless  wastes  through  which  it 
has  been  carried  ;  by  the  wi..l',-r  famine  of  those  persons  who 
have  to  sell  it ;  and  by  the  years  which  elapse  between  its  de- 
parture from  the  workshop,  and  the  return  of  the  skin  of  sable 
or  silver-fox  for  which  it  was  bartered. 

It  is  a  mistake  also  to  suppose  that  spirits  are  supplied  in 
large  quantities  from  the  company's  stores.  In  the  Northern 
districts  spirits  are  not  allowed  to  enter  the  country  ;  and  in 
no  case  are  they  a  medium  of  traffic  for  furs  ;  though  in  the 
Southern  districts  rum  is  sometimes  exchanged  for  provisions 
when  they  cannot  be  got  on  other  terms.  It  is  only  when 
the  Indian  is  in  communication  with  free-traders  that  he  be- 
comes a  regular  drunkard  ;  those  who  deal  with  the  company 
confining  themselves,  or  rather  being  confined,  to  a  small 
quantity  twice  a  year;  the  first  when  they  receive  their  sup- 
plies before  the  hunting  season,  the  second  when  they  return 
with  the  product  of  the  chase.  Even  this  custom  obtains  only 
with  the  Plain-Indians,  and  is  being  gradually  abolished. 

The  trader,  having  separated  the  furs,  and  valued  each  at 
the  standard  valuation,  now  adds  the  amount  together  and 
informs  the  Indian— who  has  been  a  deeply  interested  specta- 
tor of  all  this  strange  procedure— that  he  has  got  sixty  or 
seventy  "skins."     At  the  same  time  he  hands  his  customer 


If 


11 


I^M 


I'r; 


l^-.i 


f-m  - 


332 


T//J:  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


sixty  or  seventy  little  bits  of  wood,  to  represent  the  number 
of  skins;  so  that  the  latter  may  know,  by  returning  these  in 
payment  of  the  goods  for  which  he  really  barters  his  furs, 
how  fast  his  funds  decrease.  .  • 

The  first  act  of  the  Indian  is  to  cancel  the  debt  of  last 
year.  This  is  for  advances  made  him  at  the  beginning  of 
the  season  ;  for  the  company  generally  issue  to  the  Indians 
such  goods  as  they  need,  up  to  a  certain  amount,  when  the 
summer  supplies  arrive  at  the  forts,  such  advances  to  be  re- 
turned in  furs  at  the  end  of  the  se'^son. 

After  that  he  looks  round  upon  the  bales  of  cloth,  guns, 
b'ankets,  knives,  beads,  ribbons,  etc.,  which  constitute  the 
staples  of  the  trade,  and  after  a  long  while,  concludes  to  have 
a  small  white  capote.  The  trader  tells  him  the  price,  but  he 
has  a  great  deal  of  difficulty  in  understanding  that  eight  or 
ten  skins  only  equal  one  capote.  He  believes  in  the  single 
standard  of  values — one  skin  for  one  capote.  If  an  Indian 
were  to  bring  in  a  hundred  skins  of  different  sorts,  or  all  alike, 
he  would  trade  off  every  one  separately,  and  insist  on  payment 
for  each,  as  he  sold  it.  It  is  a  curious  and  interesting 
sight  to  watch  him  selecting  from  the  stores  articles  that  he 
may  require,  as  he  disposes  of  skin  after  skin.  If  he  has  only 
a  small  number,  he  walks  into  the  shop  with  his  blanket  about 
him,  and  not  a  sVin  visible.  After  some  preliminary  skir- 
mishing he  produces  one  from  under  his  blanket,  trades  it,  tak- 
ing in  exchange  what  he  absolutely  needs  ;  then  he  stops. 
Just  as  one  thinks  the  trading  is  over,  he  produces  another 
peltry  from  beneath  his  blanket,  and  buys  something  else. 


A   WOOD-INDIAN  TRADE. 


333 


e  number 
I  these  in 
1  his  furs, 

:bt  of  last 
tinning  of 
e  Indians 
when  the 
5  to  be  re- 
loth,  guns, 
stitute  the 
ies  to  have 
ice,  but  he 
lat  eight  or 
I  the  single 
an  Indian 
at  all  alike, 
m  payment 
interesting 
:les  that  he 
le  has  only 
mket  about 
inary  skir- 
ides  it,  tak- 
1  he  stops, 
ces  another 
;thing  else. 


Thus  he  goes  on  until,  having  bought  all  the  necessaries  he 
requires,  he  branches  off  into  the  purchase  of  luxuries- 
candy,  fancy  neckties,  etc.  Under  so  slow  a  process  an 
Indian  trader  needs  to  possess  more  than  average  patience. 

When  the  little  white  capote  has  been  handed  the  Indian, 
the  trader  tells  him  the  price  is  ten  skins.  The  purchaser 
hands  back  ten  little  pieces  of  wood,  then  looks  about  for 
something  else;  his  squaw  standing  at  his  elbow,  and  suggest- 
ing such  things  as  they  need.  Everything  is  carefully  exam- 
ined, and  with  each  purchase  the  contest  over  the  apparent 
inequality  between  the  amount  received  for  that  given  is 
renewed.  With  him,  one  skin  should  pay  for  one  article  of 
merchandise,  no  matter  what  the  value  of  the  latter.  And  he 
insists  also  upon  selecting  the  skin.  Like  his  savage  brethren 
of  the  prairies,  too,  he  has  never  solved  the  conundrum  of  the 
steelyard  and  weighing-balance — he  does  not  understand 
what  "  medicine  "  that  is.  That  his  tea  and  sugar  should  be 
balanced  against  a  bit  of  iron  conveys  no  idea  of  the  relative 
values  of  peltries  and  merchandise  to  him.  He  insists  upon 
making  the  balance  swing  even  between  the  trader's  goods 
and  his  own  furs,  until  a  new  light  is  thrown  upon  the  ques- 
tion of  steelyards  and  scales  by  the  acceptance  of  his  proposi- 
tion. Then,  when  he  finds  his  fine  furs  balanced  against 
heavy  blankets  and  balls,  he  concludes  to  abide  by  the  old 
method  of  letting  the  white  trader  decide  the  weight  in  his 
own  way  ;  for  it  is  clear  that  the  steelyard  is  a  very  great 
medicine,  which  no  brave  can  understand,  and  which  can 
only  be  manipulated  by  a  white  medicine-man. 


% 


am- 


334 


T//£  CREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


■(■'• 


The  white  medicine-man  was,  in  the  fur-trade  of  fifty 
years  ago,  a  terrible  demon  in  the  eyes  of  ^he  Indian.  His 
power  was  unlimited,  and  reached  far  out  upon  the  plains. 
He  possessed  medicines  of  the  very  highest  order  :  his  heart 
could  sing,  demons  sprang  from  the  light  of  his  candle,  and 
he  had  a  little  box  stronger  than  the  strongest  Indian.  When 
the  savage  Plain  tribes  proved  refractory  around  the  com- 
pany's trading-posts,  the  trader  in  charge  would  wind  up  his 
music-box,  get  his  magic  lantern  ready,  and  take  out  his 
galvanic  battery.  Placing  the  handle  of  the  latter  instrument 
in  the  grasp  of  some  stalwart  chief,  he  would  administer  a 
terrific  shock  to  his  person,  and  warn  him  that  far  out  upon 
the  plains  he  could  inflict  the  same  medicine  upon  him.  If 
the  doughty  chieftain  proved  penitent  and  tractable  thereafter, 
the  spring  of  the  music-box,  concealed  under  his  coat,  would 
be  touched,  and,  lo  !  the  heart  of  the  white  trader  would  sing 
with  the  strength  of  his  love  for  the  Indian.  "  Look,"  he 
would  say,  "  how  my  heart  beats  for  you  ! "  and  the  bewil- 
dered savage  would  stalk  away  in  doubt  of  his  own  identity. 
If  the  red-man  made  medicine  to  his  Manitou,  and  danced 
before  all  his  gods,  the  white  medicine-man  would  paint  gib- 
bering demons  on  the  skins  of  his  lodge,  and  send  fiery  goblins 
riding  through  the  midnight  air,  until,  in  sheer  terror,  the 
superstitious  savage  hid  his  painted  face  in  the  dank  grasses 
of  the  prairie. 

When  the  Indian  trapper  has  paid  his  debt  and  purchased 
all  needful  supplies,  if  he  has  any  skins  remaining,  he  turns 
■faifi  attention  to  the  luxuries  of  life.     The  luxuries  of  life  with 


A    WOOD-INDIAN  TRADE. 


335 


de  of  fifty 
cUan.  His 
the  plains. 
:  his  heart 
landle,  and 
in.  When 
I  the  com- 
ind  up  his 
:e  out  his 
instrument 
Iminister  a 
r  out  upon 
n  him.     If 

thereafter, 
;oat,  would 
would  sing 

Look,"  he 

the  bewil- 
m  identity, 
nd  danced 

paint  gib- 
ery  goblins 
terror,  the 
ink  grasses 

purchased 
g,  he  turns 
of  life  with 


this  painted  child  of  the  forest  and  stream  consist  of  fiincy 
neckties,  colored  beads,  cotton  handkerchiefs,  red  and  yellow 
ochre,  and  cheap  and  tawdry  jewelry.     For  articles  such  as 
these   he   hands  over    his  remaining  chips,  amid    childlike 
manifestations  of  delight  on  the  part  of  his  expectant  stpiaw. 
Then  he  turns  his  attention  to  the  last,  and,  to  him,  most  im- 
portant feature  of  the  trade — that  of  getting  into  debt  again  ; 
for  a  great  majority  of  the  Indian  and  half-breed  trappers  and 
hunters  really  live  in  a  state  of  serfdom,  or  peonage,  to  the 
company.     Indeed,  it  may  be  said  that  every  man,  woman 
and  child  living  in  the  Fur  Land  contributes  to  the  revenue 
of  that  corporation  ;  and  also  that  the  company  feeds,  clothes, 
and  wholly  maintains  nine-tenths  of  the  entire  population  ; 
nearly  all  classes  being  more  or  less  engaged  in  the  fur-trade, 
and  bartering  their  produce  at  the  many  posts  scattered  over 
the  country.     Like  the  Mexican  or  Brazilian  peon,  the  In- 
dian  trapper  is  so  constantly,  and,  for  him,  largely  in  debt 
to  the  fur-trade,  as    to   be    practically   its   servant.     Twice 
during  the  year,  perhaps,  he  is  free  from  debt  and  his  own 
master;  but  such  freedom  is  only  of  momentary  duration, 
continuing  but  for  such  time  as  he  can  get  into  debt  again. 
In  fact,  the  trapper  seems  ill  at  ease  when  free  from  pecu- 
niary obligation,  and  plunges  into  it  with  a  facility  and  to  an 
extent  only  limited  by  his  ability  to  contract    it.     By  this 
system  of  advances  the  company  rules  its  vast  territories,  and 
■    as  .  a  :nonarch  of  the  frozen  latitudes  as  Crusoe  was 

monarch  of  his  island.  The  continuance  of  this  system  has 
been  cai  1  by  the  necessities  of  the  hunters  and  trappers; 
and  by  the  fact  that  the  company,  like  the  wise  corporation 


11*'> 


THE  CRF.AT  i'Uk  r.AMD. 


\\\\\\  it  is,  ilors  not   kill  the  jionm*   lli;il    \\\\^  tlir  goUleh  eggs, 
hut  «  aret'ully  uires  for  the  giuno  ami  ilu*  htinlois  on  it^  vnst 

rnnlr.wy  lo  tho  got\otnl  \\\\v  in  lixili/i-d  lilc,  m  dihi  jh 
soKlon)  lost,  oxiH'iU  in  the  event  ol  the  ile;tlli  oltlir  (rapper. 
tto  ni;\y  rhange  his  place  df  ahntle  hnmlveils  of  miles,  Inil 
ho  still  has  ot»ly  a  'onipam's  post  at  \vl\irli  to  ir.tijv;  and  it 
is  iiupossihle  Tot-  hin\  so  to  eoneeal  his  itlenlity  as  nut  lo  be 
tiHind  o»tt  sooner  or  later.  Il\it  the  irappi'r  seMon»  atteni|tl3 
to  evade  the  payment  of  his  debts;  he  is  no!  yol  eivilized  to 
th;»t  tlegroe  whieh  p'aetiees  rehypotheeatiini.  The  i-onipany 
has  always  been  a  good  friend  to  him  and  his,  supplied  his 
necessities^  ministered  to  his  wants,  and  he  pavs  when  he 
can.  He  ktu)ws  that  whei*.  he  liiptidates  his  old  debt,  he 
oan  eot\traet  a  t>ew  one  just  as  big.  He  knows,  too,  that 
\vlien  the  eon^pany  prontise  him  anything  he  will  got  it  ;  and 
that  he  will  always  pay  jnsl  so  tnnrh  lor  his  goods  .ind  no 
more,  No  aiten^pt  was  ever  made  to  elieii  him.  and  there 
ne\-er  will  be.  When  he  is  ill,  he  goes  to  the  nearest  fort 
And  is  cared  for  and  attended  ntuil  he  recovers.  When  he 
does  his  duty  well,  he  gets  a  present ;  and  he  never  perlbrins 
any  labor  for  his  employers  without  reeeiving  a  fair  eompen- 
sation.  Such  humane  treatment  binds  the  Indian  and  hall- 
breed  to  the  company  in  a  bond  that  is  not  easily  broken. 
So,  when  ho  has  spent  all  his  little  pieces  of  wood,  and  asks 
for  further  advances,  he  is  allowed  to  draw  any  reasonable 
amcant.  Carefully  looking  over  the  purchases  already  made, 
counting  up  his  supply  of  ammunition,  clothing,  gew-gaws, 


ilili'ii   eggs, 
DM  IN  vdst 


,    !1    (Ifl)l     is 

ln'  ttii|)|)er. 

miles,  lull 
<\-:  ;  Mini  il 
1  tint  In  lie 
n  iitleiii|)t3 
■iviliztMl  to 
0  lonipaiiy 
t|tplif(|  his 
i  wIkmi  ho 
(i  (K'ltl,  ho 
^,  t<H),  th;it 
;»'!  il  ;  .'111(1 
(Is  and   no 

and  thofc 
oarosi   (ort 

WhoM  lie 
r  peifoiniH 
r  t  omiK'ti- 
>  and  ha  Il- 
ly broken. 
I.  and  asks 
reasonable 
ady  made, 
ge\v-g:nvs, 


//    WoomNIUAN   Tt^AtJE. 


^■h7 


fl( .,   he  ((in(  hides   lo   lake   mote   f'-a   and    tol)a.(  ro ;   S{)^   the 
trnpper  is  a  very  Asiatic   iti  his  love  of  soothing  stimulants. 

The  ( 'Mimimplion  of  tea  in  the  Vwx  Land  is  enortnoiis,  tl>e 
flniiiial  iiMpoilalioii  foi  one  dcparlnMnt  alone  (th(.'  N'ortlurn) 
ainonnling  l(»  over  (Mie  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  poun<ls. 
The  lea  used  •"  nt'arly  all  of  the  hl;M  k  v;irieties,  and  '  orn- 
mands  a  pri»  e  ranging  from  'wo  to  three  shillings  sterling  [»er 
poi'iid.  In  every  half-breed's  hut  and  Indian  lodge  the  tea- 
kettle is  always  boiling.  Uidike  the  Asiatic,  who  drinks  liis 
tea  Iroin  a  glass  tumbler,  with  sugar  and  a  sli;  e  of  h-rnon  to 
give  if  flavor,  trie  native  of  the  I'lir  (,and  takes  fiis  ('onfii- 
rian  beverage  undiluted  from  any  vessel  that  mayeorne  hw.'l- 
iost  ;  though  preferring  the  bhn  k  and  battered  eup  in  whi<  h 
it  hns  been  brewed,  lie  likes  it,  too,  as  ne;ir  tfie  boiling 
point  as  can  be  rea<  lied,  and  as  strong  as  ran  \>v.  made; 
though  he  will  lake  it  at  ;iny  temperature,  ar)d  of  any  (\i%xt^ 
of  strength,  rather  than  not  get  il  at  all.  Me  drinks  enormous 
(pianlilies  of  it  ;it  his  mealft,  until,  like  Mr.  VVeller's  girl,  he 
swells  visibly  before  yoiii  very  eyes  ;  gets  up  in  the  night, 
time  afler  tune,  and  drinks  it  rold  ;  carries  it  with  hinD  in  hi.<i 
weary  journeys  over  the  plairis,  and  halts  at  every  available 
pine  thicket  to  build  ;i  fire  and  j/iit  his  kettle  on.  Meet  a 
party  of  Wood- Indians  anywhere,  and  after  the  handshake 
and  inevitable  "  How  I  "  romes  the  mystie  word  "  the."  A 
Very  little  suffices  to  make  them  happy,  and  wrapping  it 
carefully  in  their  blankets,  they  run  to  the  nearest  timber  and 
start  a  fire.  When  the  half-breed  buys  tea  at  the  trading- 
store,  he  never  permits  the  officious  clerk  to  wrap  it  in  paper, 
15 


338 


THE  ORE  A  T  FUR  LAND. 


w  >. 


pn 


u-m 


but  purchases  a  new  handkerchief,  or  a  square  of  white  cot- 
ton, to  put  it  in.  He  cherishes  a  vague  and  misty  idea  that 
brown  paper  absorbs  the  aroma  of  his  tea,  and  lessens  its 
strength.  Besides,  the  cotton  handkerchief  becomes  aromatic 
from  its  savory  contents,  and  consequently  more  valuable. 

Nearly  on  a  par  with  the  consumption  of  tea  in  the  country- 
ranks  that  of  tobacco.  The  company's  annual  importation  for 
the  Northern  department  alone  amounts  to  over  seventy-five 
thousand  pounds.  It  comes,  for  the  most  part,  in  the  shape 
of  manufactured  plugs — small  black  "tens,"  composed  of 
equal  parts  of  molasses,  tobacco,  copperas,  and  other  ingre- 
dients— for  the  aboriginal  and  his  blood  relations,  and  the 
large,  flat,  natural-leaf  cavendish  for  the  whites.  The  amount 
of  smoking  going  on  seems  at  first  incredible  to  the  new- 
comer. Everybody  "  puffs  a  cloud,"  and  goes  prepared 
with  all  the  paraphernalia  of  a  smoker.  The  native  carries  a 
fire-bag — a  long  leather  bag,  containing  pipe,  tobacco,  knife, 
flint  and  steel,  and  haroiigc,  the  inner  bark  of  the  grey  willow. 
He  mixes  an  equal  quantity  of  the  Indian  weed  with  the 
willow-bark,  and  smokes  it  from  choice  and  economy.  The 
compound  has  a  rather  pungent,  aromatic  odor,  not  unlike 
that  produced  by  smoking  cascarilla  bark.  The  Indians  also 
mingle  with  their  tobacco  an  equal  amount  of  a  small  species 
of  sage,  common  on  the  prairie,  in  lieu  of  the  willow-bark.  Its 
continued  use,  however,  is  productive  of  certain  irritable  dis- 
eases of  the  throat  and  cellular  tissues  of  the  lungs,  and  finally 
of  consumption.  The  dry,  hacking  cough,  common  among 
Indians,  is  said  to  be  one  of  the  primary  results  of  its  use. 


A    WOOD-INDIAN  TRADE. 


339 


white  cot- 
r  idea  that 
lessens  its 
5  aromatic 
.luable. 
le  country- 
rtation  for 
;venty-five 
the  shape 
[iposed  of 
her  ingre- 
;,  and  the 
le  amount 
the  new- 
prepared 
;  carries  a 
xo,  knife, 
ey  willow, 
with  the 
my.  The 
lot  unlike 
lians  also 
ill  species 
Ijark.  Its 
itable  dis- 
ind  finally 


Dn  among 


ts  use. 


The  purchase  of  such  soothing  solace  terminates  the  trade 
of  the  Indian  trapper.  After  going  in  debt  to  the  extent  of 
his  ability,  he  wends  his  way  to  the  forest  again.  The  furs  he 
has  traded  are  thrown  carelessly  behind  the  counter,  to  be 
afterward  carried  to  the  fur-room. 

In  the  early  spring,  when  the  snow  is 
gone  from  the  plains,  and  the  ice  has  left 
the  rivers,  the  workmen  at  the  trading- 
post  begin  to  pack  all  the  fur  skins  in 
bales   of   from    eighty   to   one    hundred 
pounds  each,  that  being  the  usual  weight 
of  each  package— goods  or  furs— in  the 
company's  trade.     The  outer  covering  is 
buffalo-skin,  or  raw-hide  ;  loops  are  made 
to  each   package  in  order  to  sling  it  on 
the  pack-saddles,  if  the  pack  is  sent  from 
an  inland  post ;  the  pack-saddles  are  re- 
paired and  thongs  cut  to  fasten  the  bales  on  to  the  horses. 
The  company's  horses— of  which  each  fort  has  its  comple- 
ment—that have  wintered  in  some  sheltered  valley,  under  the 
care  of  Indians,  are  now  brought  to  the  post;  the  packs  are 
tied  on,  and  the  train  starts  for  the  depot  or  chief  fort  of  the 
district,  situated   always   on   the   banks   of  some   navigable 
stream.     This  is  calling  fitting  out  a  brigade,  and  forms  the 
grand  event  of  fort  life— being  looked  forward  to  by  the  men 
as  a  boy  anticipates  his  holidays.     Arrived  at  the  depot,  the 
bales  are  handed  over,  and  goods  for  the  ensuing  year  re- 
ceived in  return.  ^ 


I'  'I 

hi  I 


If 


i  I 


340 


r^i?  G/!L'A  T  FUR  LAND, 


It  generally  occurs  that  several  brigades  meet  at  the  depot 
simultaneously.  In  this  event  the  spectacle  presented  is 
quaint  and  singular  :  the  wild  looks,  long  unkempt  hair,  sun- 
burnt faces  and  leather  costumes  of  the  traders  being  only 
exceeded  by  the  still  wilder  appearance  and  absence  of  cloth- 
ing among  their  Indian  attendants.  So  long  as  the  brigades 
remain  the  scene  is  one  continuous  festivity,  eating,  drinking 
and  quarreling.  When  the  brigades  depart,  the  furs  are  all 
sorted  and  repacked,  and  pressed  into  bales  by  an  enormous 
lever — rum  and  tobacco  being  placed  between  the  layers  of 
skins  to  keep  out  the  insects  and  moths.  They  are  then 
shipped  by  slow  stages  to  the  nearest  seaport,  and  eventually 
sold  at  public  auction  in  London.  It  is  estimated  that  the 
total  worth  of  the  furs  collected  by  the  Hudson's  Bay  Com- 
pany alone  since  its  organization  represents  a  money  value  of 
^120,000,000  in  gold.  Still,  strange  to  say,  owing  to  the  care- 
ful preservation  of  game  by  the  company,  the  average  yearly 
catch  is  not  sensibly  decreasing. 

It  may  not  be  uninteresting  in  this  connection  to  give  a 
brief  sketch  of  the  various  furs  traded  by  the  company,  and 
the  average  number  of  each  species  annually  exported  from 
its  territories.* 

The  first  in  point  of  value  is  the  pine  marten,  or  Hudson's 
Bay  sable,  of  which  about  1 20,000  skins,  on  an  average,  are 
exported  every  year.  The  martens  or  sables  from  this  region 
are  not  considered  so  valuable  furs  as  the  sables  of  Russia, 

*  For  many  of  the  statistics  which  follow  the  author  is  indebted  to  an 
article  on  "  American  Furs,"  by  J.  K.  Lord,  F.  Z.  S.,  in  the  Leisure  Hour. 


fi| 


A  WOOD-INDIAN  TRADE. 


341 


t  the  depot 
resented  is 
t  hair,  sun- 
being  only 
;e  of  cloth- 
le  brigades 
5,  drinking 
"urs  are  all 
enormous 
e  layers  of 
■  are  then 
eventually 
:d  that  the 
Bay  Com- 
ey  value  of 

0  the  caro 
rage  yearly 

1  to  give  a 
iipany,  and 
Drted  from 

r  Hudson's 

verage,  are 

this  region 

of  Russia, 

debted  to  an 
Leisure  Hour. 


although  there  is  no  doubt  that  the  varieties  are  in  reality 
one  and  the  same  species  ;  the  difference  in  temperature,  and 
other  local  causes,  readily  accounting  for  the  better  quality 
of  the  Russian  fur.  In  fact  the  difference  between  the  two  is 
not  always  discernible,  the  lighter-colored  skins  being  usually 
dyed  and  sold  as  Russian  sable.  The  winter  fur  is  the  most 
valuable,  and  the  Indian  trappers  say  the  first  fall  of  rain,  after 
the  snow  disappears,  spoils  the  marten.  When  caught  the 
animal  is  skinned  like  a  rabbit,  the  peltry  being  inverted  as 
it  is  removed,  then  drawn  over  a  flat  board,  and  dried  in  the 
sun.  The  animals  haunt  the  pine  forests,  especially  where 
fallen  or  dead  timber  abounds,  and  are  mostly  caught  in  the 
style  of  trap  known  as  the  dead-fall.  A  good  marten  skin  is 
worth  in  trade  from  two  and  a  half  to  three  dollars.  The 
best  skins  come  from  the  far  North,  being  darker  and  finer 
furred  than  others. 

The  fisher  is  much  like  the  pine  marten,  but  larger.  Just 
why  he  is  called  a  fisher  we  cannot  imagine,  as  he  does  not 
catch  fish,  or  go  near  the  water  except  when  compelled  to 
swim  a  stream.  He  climbs  readily,  but  is  trapped  like  the 
marten.  The  tail  is  very  long  and  bushy,  and  at  one  time  a 
large  trade  was  carried  on  in  them,  only  the  tails  being  worn 
by  the  Polish  Jew  merchants.  About  twelve  thousand  are 
annually  exported  from  the  territory.  The  average  trade 
price  is  from  two  and  a  half  to  three  dollars.  The  fisher  in 
full  winter  coat  makes  a  finer  suit  of  furs  than  the  sable. 

The  mink  is  vastly  inferior  to  either  fisher  or  marten  in 
the  quality  of  fur,  and  its  habits  are  entirely  different.     It 


342 


T//E  GREA  T  l-'UR  LAND. 


fre([uents  streams  and  water-courses,  and  feeds  ui)on  fish, 
crabs,  etc.     The  Indian  hunter  catches  it  with  a  steel  trap, 
baited  generally  with  fish.     The  trade  price  is  about  fifty  cents 
a  skin.     About  250,000  skins  are  exported,  the  majority  of 
which  ultimately  go  to  the  continent  of  Europe. 

The  raccoon  is  widely  scattered  over  the  territories  of  the 
company,  about  520,000  skins  l)eing  purchased  and  exported 
every  year.  The  raccoons  are  generally  shot,  but  a  few  are 
taken  in  steel  traps.  The  fur  is  not  very  valuable,  being  prin- 
cipally used  in  making  carriage-rugs  and  in  lining  inferior 
cloaks  and  coats. 

The  most  valuable  fur  traded  by  the  company  is  that  of 
the  black  and  silver  foxes.  There  are  three  species  of  fox 
found  in  the  territory — the  black  or  cross,  the  silver  and  the 
red  fox.  The  two  former  are  considered  to  be  only  varieties 
of  the  latter  ;  as  in  any  large  collection  of  skins  every  inter- 
mediate tint  of  color,  changing  by  regular  gradations  from 
the  red  into  the  cross  and  from  the  cross  into  the  silver  and 
black,  may  be  found,  rendering  it  difficult  even  for  the  trader 
to  decide  to  which  of  the  varieties  a  skin  really  belongs.  The 
Indians  also  assert  that  cubs  of  the  three  varieties  are  con- 
stantly seen  in  the  same  litter.  The  silver  and  cross  fox  skins 
bring  from  1^40  to  $50  each  ;  the  red  fox  is  only  worth  about 
five  to  eight  shillings.  About  50,000  red  foxes,  4,500  cross, 
and  1,000  silver  are  annually  exported.  The  silver  fox  fur  is 
almost  entirely  sold  to  Chinese  and  Russian  dealers. 

To  illustrate  the  difference  in  the  trade  in  beaver  now  as 
compared  with  what  it  was  before  the  introduction  of  silk  in 


A    IVOOD.INDIAN  TRADE, 


343 


upon  fish, 
steel  trap, 
fifty  cents 
lajority  of 

lies  of  the 
1  exported 
a  few  are 
)eing  prin- 
ig  Inferior 

'  is  that  of 
;ies  of  fox 
r  and  the 
J  varieties 
/ery  inter- 
ions  from 
silver  and 
the  trader 
ngs.  The 
s  are  con- 
s  fox  skins 
)rth  about 
500  cross, 
fox  fur  is 

• 

;r  now  as 
of  silk  in 


the  napping  of  hats,  we  may  mention  that  in  1743  the  com- 
pany sold  in  England  26,750  skins,  and  more  than  127,000 
were  exported  and  sold  at  Rochelle,  in  France.  In  1788 
Canada  alone  supplied  176,000,  and  in  1808  again  126,927 
skins.  AbGiii,  00,000  are  now  brought  annually  from  the 
company's  tevritories.  So  much  was  this  fur  in  demand  be- 
forithe  introduction  of  silk  and  rabbits'  fur  that  the  poor  little 
rodent  i-.^  some  districts  is  entirely  exterminated.  The  prin- 
cipal use  made  of  the  fur  now  is  in  the  manufacture  of  bon- 
nets in  France,  and  in  making  cloaks.  The  long  hair  is  pulled 
out,  and  the  under  fur  shaved  down  close  and  even  by  a 
machine  ;  some  of  it  is  still  felted  into  a  kind  of  cloth.  The 
beaver  is  a  very  difficult  animal  to  trap,  but  is,  nevertheless, 
rapidly  disappearing  from  the  great  fur  preserves  of  the  North. 

The  musk-rat  is  similar  in  many  of  its  habits  to  the  beaver. 
Indeed,  some  of  the  species  build  their  houses  precisely  as  the 
beaver  does.  The  hunters  generally  spear  them  through  the 
walls  and  roofs  of  their  dwellings.  The  annual  destruction 
of  these  little  animals,  though  immense,  many  hundreds  of 
thousands  being  yearly  exported,  does  not  serve  greatly  to 
diminish  their  numbers.  The  fur  is  of  very  little  value,  being 
used  in  the  coarsest  manufactures.  Large  bundles  of  the  tails 
of  the  musk-rat  are  constantly  exposed  for  sale  in  the  bazaars 
of  Constantinople  as  articles  for  perfuming  clothing. 

The  lynx  or  wildcat  is  found  in  considerable  numbers 
throughout  the  territory.  Its  fur,  however,  though  prettily 
marked,  is  not  of  much  value.  Of  wolf  skins  about  fifteen 
thousand  are  annually  exported,  and  of  the  land  otter  about 


Kmt.ik  \<\ 


h  ^ 


?,i 


344 


r//£:  GREA  T  FUR  LAND, 


■a  1 


seventeen  thousand  skins  are  often  procured.  Thefurofthesea 
otter,  though  the  most  vahiable  fur  traded,  is  very  difficult  to 
obtain.  The  animal  ranges  along  the  seacoast  between  Cali- 
fornia and  Alaska,  and  appears  to  be  a  connecting  link  be- 
tween the  true  seal  and  the  land  otter.  It  is  generally  caught 
in  nets  or  speared  by  the  Indians  in  the  sea.  Nearly  all  the 
sea-otter  fur  goes  to  China,  and  a  good  skin  is  worth  about 
$200. 

The  coarse  fur  of  the  wolverine  or  American  glutton  is 
used  mostly  in  the  manufacture  of  muflFs  and  linmgs,  and  is 
of  comparatively  little  value.  Only  a  small  exportation — 
about  twelve  hundred  skins  yearly — is  made  by  the  company. 
Some  years  ago  the  caprices  of  fashion  introduced  the  fur  of 
the  skunk  into  popular  use,  and  for  a  few  seasons  the  traffic 
in  that  odorous  peltry  was  enormous.  Now,  however,  its  use 
is  almost  wholly  abandoned,  and  only  about  a  thousand  skins 
are  yearly  collected.  The  Indians  generally  shoot  the  skunk, 
and  always  skin  it  under  water. 

The  skin  of  the  bear — black,  brown,  and  grizzly — is  always 
in  demand,  and  is  used  for  innumerable  purposes.  The 
number  of  bears  killed  annually  is  not  easily  determined,  but, 
at  a  safe  average,  it  may  be  estimated  at  9,000.  The  greater 
part  are  killed  in  winter,  during  their  period  of  hibernation. 
An  immense  business  is  also  carried  on  in  rabbit  fur.  Besides 
the  hundreds  of  thousands  of  rabbit  skins  exported  by  the 
company,  there  are  sold  annually  in  London  about  1,300,000 
skins  which  are  used  in  the  fur  trade.  The  natives  of  the 
territory  manufacture   large  quantities  of  these   skins   into 


A    WOOD-INDIAN  TRADE. 


345 


r  of  the  sea 
iifficult  to 
reen  Cali- 
g  link  be- 
lly caught 
ly  all  the 
rth  about 

glutton  is 
gs,  and  is 
)rtation — 
company, 
the  fur  of 
the  traffic 
er,  its  use 
and  skins 
he  skunk, 

-is  always 
es.  The 
ined,  but, 
le  greater 
»ernation. 
Besides 
id  by  the 
1,300,000 
es  of  the 
tins   into 


bed-quilts,  the  pelts  being  cut  into  strips  and  braided  into 
thick  braids,  which  are  then  sewed  together  and  covered  with 
cloth,  making  a  quilt  unsurpassed  for  warmth. 

An  immense  annual  export,  which  cannot  properly  come 
under  the  head  of  fur,  is  made  by  the  company  in  the  shape 
of  buffalo  robes.  In  the  autumn  of  1870  the  line  of  forts 
along  the  Saskatchewan  River,  in  the  Plain  country,  had 
traded  30,000  robes  before  the  first  of  January  ;  and  for  every 
one  traded  fully  as  many  more  in  the  shape  of  skins  of  parch- 
ment had  been  purchased,  or  consumed  in  the  thousand 
wants  of  savage  life.  The  number  of  buffaloes  annually 
killed  in  the  territory  seems  incredible;  12,000  are  said  to 
fall  by  the  Blackfeet  alone.  It  is  only  during  a  part  of  the 
winter  that  the  coat  is  "  prime,"  as  the  phrase  is.  Before  the 
first  of  November  the  hair  is  not  long  enough  to  make  a 
marketable  robe.  After  the  middle  of  January  it  gets  ragged, 
and  its  rich  black-brown  is  bleached  by  the  v.'eather  to  the 
color  of  d-  y  tow,  especially  along  the  animal's  hack.  Dur- 
ing the  summer  months  the  hair  is  very  short,  and  frequently 
rubbed  entirely  off  in  many  places,  from  the  animal's  habit  of 
wallowing  in  the  mud.  The  robe  of  commerce  is  generally 
taken  from  cows,  and  sometimes  from  young  bulls,  but  never 
from  old  bulls,  whose  hides  are  much  too  thick  and  heavy. 
In  the  winter  months  the  latter  are  covered  all  over  with 
thick,  long  and  curly  fur;  a  mane  of  light-brown  hair  and 
fur,  like  that  of  a  lion,  only  larger,  envelopes  his  neck;  a  long 
glossy  dewlap,  hanging  from  his  chin   like   a   deep   fringe, 

sweeps  the  ground ;  which,  with  his  savage-looking  muzzle, 

15* 


346 


THE  GREA  T  EUK  LAND. 


and  prominent  black  eyes  flashing  between  the  tangled  locks 
of  his  hair,  give  him  altogether  a  most  ferocious  appearance. 
In  reality,  however,  he  is  a  very  timid  animal,  and  it  is  only 
when  he  imagines  himself  unable  to  escape  that  he  becomes 
desperate,  and  therefore  dangerous  from  his  immense 
strength. 

We  have  been  struck  more  than  once  with  the  resemblance 
of  old  bulls  to  lions,  as  we  have  seen  them  standing  apart  on 
the  low  ridges  and  sandy  knolls,  eying  one  from  afar  with  an 
air  of  savage  watchfulness — each  neck  crested  with  a  luxu- 
riant mane,  swelled  into  greater  largeness  by  the  hump  be- 
neath it,  each  short,  tufted  tail  held  straight  out  from  the 
body  in  bold  and  lion-like  defiance.  The  full  grown  bull  is 
immensely  shaggy,  especially  about  the  head,  which  is  covered 
with  so  vast  a  quantity  of  fur,  wool  and  long  hair  hanging 
down  over  its  eyes,  and  almost  concealing  the  horns,  as  to 
give  it  the  appearance  of  being  nearly  one-third  the  size  of 
the  whole  body.  Such  an  outline,  seen  relieved  against  the 
night  sky,  as  one  lies  in  cheerless  bivouac  upon  the  plains,  is 
not  calculated  to  inspire  a  feeling  of  safety. 

Most  buffalo  robes  are  found  to  have  been  split  down  the 
middle  and  sewed  up  again,  the  object  of  the  process  being  to 
lighten  the  labor  of  dressing  the  skin.  The  Indian  women  dress 
all  the  robes,  and  few  of  them  are  able  to  prepare  a  complete 
hide  without  assistance.  Some  Indians,  when  asked  why  they 
have  married  more  than  one  wife,  will  answer  that  each  wife 
requires  another  co  help  her  in  dressing  robes  ;  and  the  more 
wives  one  possesses  the  more  skins  he  is  able  to  bring  to  market. 


A  WOOD-INDIA!^  TRADE. 


347 


The  hides  are  brought  in  from  the  hunt  just  as  they  are 
taken  from  the  animals,  and  given  to  the  women,  who  stretch 
them  upon  a  rude  framework  of  poles  and  flesh  them  with 
iron  or  bone  scrapers.  They  are  then  slowly  dried,  and 
during  this  process  various  things  are  applied  to  render 
them  pliable. 

The  final  work  is  painting  the  inside  with  pigments,  a 
labor  bestowed  only  upon  unusually  fine  skins.  We  have 
seen  some  robes  thus  ornamented  that  were  beautiful  specie 
mens  of  Indian  decorative  art.  The  designs  used  in  most 
instances  are  of  the  calendar  style.  The  intention  seems  to  be 
to  keep  a  record  of  certain  years  on  the  buffalo  robe  by  some 
symbol  representing  an  event  that  took  place  in  that  year. 
The  events  selected  are  not  always  the  most  important  of  the 
year,  but  such  as  were,  in  some  sense,  the  most  striking,  and 
could  be  best  represented  by  symbols.  For  example,  ^tars 
falling  from  the  top  to  the  bottom  of  the  robe  represent 
the  year  1833,  an  event  from  which  the  Indians  frequently 
count,  The  etching  of  an  Indian  with  a  broken  leg  and  a 
horn  on  his  head  stands  for  a  year  in  which  Mr.  Hay-waujina, 
One  Horn,  had  his  leg  "  killed,"  and  so  on.  The  symbols  are 
placed  in  a  spiral  form,  beginning  in  the  centre,  and  going  a 
little  to  the  left ;  the  line  then  turns  on  itself  to  the  right 
and  below,  and  so  on,  turning  with  the  sun.  These  designs 
are  copied  many  times,  of  course,  so  that  in  a  pack  of  painted 
robes,  nine-tenths  of  them  will  be  decorated  in  exactly  the 
same  manner. 

The  work   of  dressing  a  buffalo  skin  perfectly  is  a  very 


Ml  i      k  )^ 


I 


»  !■' 


# 


1^  i!|, 


It.i 


It 


348 


T//£  GREA  T  FUR  LAND. 


tedious  process,  and  one  squaw  is  only  considered  capable 
of  preparing  ten  robes  for  market  during  the  year.  To  the 
savage  with  any  sort  of  an  eye  to  business,  this  fact  alone 
would  be  a  sufficient  incentive  to  polygamy  on  the  most 
extended  scale. 

The  best  robes  are  always  reserved  by  the  Indians  and 
half-breeds  for  their  own  use,  and  some  of  them  are  marvels 
of  beauty  and  finish.  We  have  seen  buffalo  skins  tanned  to 
a  degree  of  softness  that  would  rival  the  finest  cloths.  The 
trader,  for  the  most  part,  gets  only  second-ratie  robes  and 
the  refuse  of  the  luint.  The  Indian  loves  the  buffalo,  and 
delights  in  ornamenting  his  beautiful  skin.  The  animal  is 
his  only  friend,  and  small  wonder  he  calls  it  so.  It  supplies 
every  want  from  infancy  to  old  age ;  wrapped  in  his  buffalo 
robe,  the  red  man  waits  for  the  coming  dawn. 

The  catalogue  of  quadrupeds  in  the  company's  territory 
embraces  ninety-four  different  animals ;  but  we  have  noticed 
the  principal  ones  to  whose  fur  the  corporation  confines  its 
trade.  There  is  a  small  traffic  done  in  the  robes  of  the  musk-ox, 
and  the  furs  of  the  ermine,  siffloe,  fitch,  squirrel  and  chinchilla, 
but  it  is  insignificant  compared  to  the  staples  of  the  trade. 


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